


Fading Frames

by paperglass (blowmeharry)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Horror, Death, Demon Hunters, Demons, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Masturbation, Mystery, Resurrection, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Smut, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blowmeharry/pseuds/paperglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Confusion is defined as a lack of understanding. A situation of panic. Uncertainty.</p><p>Death is calming. Quick and relentless. Unavoidable.</p><p>Eren must find his way back, with or without a head on his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first SnK fic!
> 
> This is completely original, but a lot of it parallels the SnK plot (mostly unintentional okay these characters have made it into my subconscious and there's no going back) 
> 
> The first few chapters won't be very shippy so you'll have to bear with me.
> 
> Body horror warning for this part.

Confusion is defined as a lack of understanding. A situation of panic. Uncertainty.

Eyes rolling open, there is a sharp throbbing in my head that causes my eyes to slide shut right away. When the pain becomes slightly bearable, it takes a bit for my vision to adjust to normal, no longer blurry as my eyes scope for some familiarity in the eerie surroundings.

Wedged between a dumpster and a building tall enough where the separation between the top and the sky is non-existent, dim lighting falls upon me, the last of it flicking on and off. The trash beneath me indicates I am in an alley, and the wretched smell tells me that the source is more than the week old food littered around the dumpster.

I make an effort to stand, and my head begins to spin as a result of having done so too quickly. Blinking hard, the pounding sensation in the back of my head resurfaces, my hands desperately pressing against the edges of the dumpster to support myself.

A thought forces its way to the surface, crying out like a protester in a crowd desperate to be heard. Brief flashes of some sport practice (football?) and a hug from a woman (my mother?) enter my line of vision, my eyes stretched wide—long enough for tears to spring to my eyes. I blink again.

Are these my memories? If this is true, why am I treating them like facts picked out of a textbook and not something engraved on my bones? If the thought is there, why am I not able to form a connection?

Shifting forward and eyes budging open, my mouth gapes at the new sight, causing me to fall forward. On the anterior side of the metal bin I observe splotches of blood designating horizontally across—the very same area I’d touched. The more I stare, the more mortified I become.

Death is calming. Quick and relentless. Unavoidable. Yet the discerning sight before me dries my throat and causes the muscles beneath my chest to contract barbarically, eyes averting from the red moisture covering my hands until they glue to the ground. My skin breaks out in gooseflesh, every fiber of my being frozen with fear. Quick gasps of air rise from my lungs, causing me to cough violently on my own breaths, as I stare at the open corpse—intestines and other ruptured organs exposed unapologetically.

Why am I so cold? For what reason do my bones feel so hollow, my mind swept away in the darkness the night sky had to offer. Questions can stir as they please, but logic dictates that this was my wrongdoing.

The corpse has a face. I identify him as a man, but I cannot recognize much in the dim lighting.

Taking a step back once I’m able to get my legs to move, I realize I must have blacked out. Perhaps I was knocked out and acted out of self-defense prior to the incident. Even so, that doesn’t change the facts splayed out in front of me.

I dig through my pockets for my phone and mindlessly try to turn it on. I deliberately toss it to the ground when it doesn’t. Full of adrenaline and stuck on a wire, the best I can do now was run. Run and hide before anyone finds me. My legs feel like jelly as I drag myself away from the body, taking off when I reach the corner of the sidewalk.

Though befuddled and lost, I don’t stop for anything.


	2. Dullsville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slight hints at self-harm here and in the next two parts. 
> 
> My tumblr is erenandlevi if you wish to follow :)

Prior to my current circumstances, you could say I spent the majority of my time playing with fire—confusion the resulting factor when the flames no longer flickered in the desired path, and I began to run dangerously low on wood. At least...that’s all I know.

I have been here for nearly twenty months, my days consisting of stale meals and a cot with broken springs that dared to call itself a bed. The highlights of my days include my observations. From the steroid-induced athletic bodies in the halls to the girls and boys self-consciously pulling their sleeves over their scars, the dark circles that surround the eyes of each patient are something we all share—something that never leaves.

The idea that I have the ability to perceive the littlest changes day to day (not only in others, but myself) fascinates me to no end. It’s liberating to know that in a world where my capabilities confine me to this very room, body trapped and soul fading away, I still have my mind. Though saying that I’m sane as long as I reside here might earn me a laugh or two in group therapy.

Nobody really speaks to me outside of group, but that might have to do with the fact that we’re all forced to speak to each other rather than letting the silence settle our problems. There’s that, and there’s the underlying truth that I am rather unapproachable. Whether that’s a natural cause and maybe I’ve never really given two shits about social interaction, or perhaps I’m too sadistic for my own good, loneliness is always quick to become another constant in this sad world of isolation.

It’s just as easy to lose yourself as it is to hate yourself. You have to constantly remind yourself that this is only a building, and those who inhibit it only wish to help, though that fact is questionable at times. Outside these walls lies the entirety of the world, every cornerstone of this planet at the tip of your fingers once you check out.

I often consider, and in some ways, accept, that I’m going to die here. Not necessarily a natural death, either. Of course, there are reasons for why I’m here, one of which has to do with the fact that I’m rather self-destructive and regretfully impulsive.

When I first arrived, my first session with my therapist, Dr. Wagner, helped me understand. I was informed on the reason why I had to sit in this uncomfortable, leather couch, stare at the pointed edges of the desk nameplate, and act as though I wasn’t achingly tempted to drag it across my neck.

I’d envisioned how flawlessly my blood would blend in with the couch’s rich maroon color, snapping out of it after debating with myself that blood was too thick, even when it was fresh, and that a clear coat of blood could never replace the shininess of leather.

It had felt like eons later when my ears detected Dr. Wagner calling my name, followed by a hint that there was one thing the world didn’t need.

“The Ku Klux Klan?” I’d nonchalantly suggested, mouthing off other irrelevant subjects while I was at it. After all, if I had to be here, I would do everything my way, especially if it meant leaving the room as the same person who had entered.

With a shake to his head, there was a slight raise to his eyebrows that indicated my words had piqued some interest. I carefully stored away the idea as a potential conversation starter.

“Murder.”

“Murder,” I’d repeated his words.

Dr. Wagner adjusted his glasses over the bridge of his nose, glancing down at his desk and folding his hands together. “Do you remember anything?”

“What?”

An explanation wasn’t entirely needed. “What you did.”

The couch was rather short, so I had to lean back for my thighs to rest against the surface. I’d chosen my words carefully, knowing that I could change my fate at any given moment regardless of the patient confidentiality.

“I remember what happened.”

Dr. Wagner rose in his seat. “You do?”

“Yeah, I’m not entirely sure, though. Out of nowhere I wake up, and there’s a…body next to me. I don’t even know how I got there,” I told him truthfully.

He didn’t seem to buy it, but he wasn’t in any position to determine the situation. Neither was I. “Anything else?”

“No.” I rubbed my eyes violently; I hadn’t slept much the past few days.

As he scribbled something on a clipboard, I found an opportunity and daringly opened my mouth.

“Can I see my records?”

Dr. Wagner didn’t bother looking up as he shook his head.

Skeptically, my eyes scanned over the papers in front of him in a way that showed I knew what I was doing; I knew what I was capable of. “Well, why not? What harm could I possibly do by looking at my own records if I can’t even remember what I did and didn’t do?”

I waited to hear an explanation—absolute bullshit that wouldn’t even compare to the astounding argument I made. What I got instead was, “That will be all for today, Eren.”

The first thing I did upon returning to my room involved throwing my body into my cot and muffling the loudest scream into a pillow. I found that after a week of confusion and hollowness wracking my insides, the initial reaction fell into a routine.

Two years later, things have changed in some ways. The itching temptation to run a blade across my wrists as if it will release my mind from this body has slowly dissipated as I began to adapt to this new way of life. Nightmares are daily occurrences. I have become familiar with the erratic pounding in my chest every time my eyes fly open, body trembling, lips quivering, and images vanishing before I can even begin to question my reactions.

Even so, everything tends to stay the same—same shitty breakfast, same dank showers, same walls to stare at every night. The repetition this place offers is a trap. There’s a schedule to be followed every day that begins with breakfast and goes into a series of personal therapy sessions, group therapy, and recreational activities that are really only out of force. Overwhelmingly boring, there aren’t a whole lot of options offered for any personal interests, either. Do you enjoy reading? Here’s a book. Want to exercise? Go ahead. Need to jack off? Um.

Needless to say, I do enough of that. About four times a day. Like I said, not many options. Constantly living in a state of confusion and wanting to die really suppresses that sexual energy, and I can’t really afford to buy Viagra if I stop getting hard at 18.

I also dismissed the idea of relationships here. Yeah, there are some attractive faces here and there. If I wanted to, I could find a nice girl whose biggest problem was keeping food down and searching for a boy who wouldn't break her heart, and perhaps my wit and charm would lead her to believe I could perpetually fix her. I could find a boy and make him believe he was capable of understanding my complex mind until his life is eventually wasted trying. Or…I could also devour regurgitated eggs and achieve the same results.

Apparently first-degree murder is considered a federal offense in the state of California. Still, the death penalty seems pretty unjustified, especially in my case. But that's the government for you. At the time pleading insanity had been the right choice, but now I’m not so sure. It isn’t that I value death over spending another day here, but having to wake up every morning seemed far-fetched.

The worst doesn’t entirely have to do with the fact that I might as well deem the whole of my childhood non-existent, but that the length of my stay is unknown to me. That's the thing with hospitals. You have a sentence in prison, but here judgment is based solely on your behavior, as far as I know. Honestly, two years of a clean track record means I deserved something soon, right?

To this day I still can’t recall what had happened the unfortunate night two years ago. So many patches of my life have been stolen from me, buried deep in my mind and never rising to the surface. Only the brief flashes from time to time show me what I need to see. Always places and events, which are as vague and unreliable as dreams at night—never faces. As far as I knew I have no parents. No family, really. It’s as if someone wiped my entire timeline from my database in a well-thought-out attempt to fuck with me.

Dr. Wagner has filled me on a few things, even though he never allows so much as a glance at my records. I’m informed of the basic details. I was a high school junior, an all-star football player, with decent grades. He claims my records contain all kinds of personal information, like my date and place of birth and the name of my parents, not that he’s ever disclosed anything with me. Yet.

Today I’m exhausted, and the day seems to drag on more than usual. I skipped breakfast and lunch because I slept for fourteen hours straight. It was mostly an accident, but I did tend to sleep often for the sheer purpose of passing boredom.

It’s five in the evening when I lose my shit after a kid shoved me into a wall, referring to me as a “schizophrenic psychopath that deserved to be raped in the ass.”

He’s smaller than me, and I use that to my advantage. I raise my fist and swing it at his face, proceeding to knee him in the crotch, and once I bring him to the ground I don’t hesitate to repetitively kick him in the stomach, blood smearing with tears across his face.

I can only glare as he tries to apologize.

“I-I swear I didn’t mean it! Leave me alone!”

Hands grabbing my shoulders, I don’t bother fighting as two officers drag me away from the bastard, all eyes watching as I’m taken out of the hallway.

Confined to my room for the remainder of the day, I can only stare at the ceiling and think about what I can do now. Obviously I will face some sort of punishment for my actions, which probably guarantees an extended sentence. I’d probably be more pissed about it if I knew what’s going on with me half the time.

Blood still pounding in my ears, I roll my hand into a fist, running my fingers across the hot, inflamed skin, the pain not nearly as bad as the aching in my head. I realize that for a minute there I had become completely overcome by rage. It hadn’t been the first time I’d been in a fight, but it’s surely my last. If nobody had been there to stop me, I might have killed the kid.

I can’t for the life of me remember when I dozed off, but when I hear a loud knock on my door, the view from the discouragingly small window tells me it’s dark out.

My instincts tell me I am either going to be allowed to leave the room, or that there are heavy consequences heading my way.

However, nothing could have prepared me for this.

The administrator stands at my door whose name has left my mind. I’ve only seen him twice, and seeing him now is rather odd; he never speaks to patients one-on-one.

Swallowing hard, I force out, “Hello.”

“Eren Jaeger, is it?”

I nod.

“Pack your things. You’re coming with me.”

“Where am I going?” I instantly regret speaking.

I don’t get an answer anyway. The door shuts behind him as he allows me time to follow his orders. I quickly come to the conclusion that my irrational actions today will lead into something much, much worse. The pain I’ve endured the past months meant little now as I will face a reassignment—somewhere fitting to people like me. It takes me mere seconds to throw a few articles of clothing into a bag and walk out the door.

We head down the hall, down the elevator, and down to the lobby. It seemed a millennia ago that I’ve last seen this lavish setting—the one place the mental institution bother to make presentable.

“Wait here,” he tells me, leaving me in the waiting area.

Whether or not I can easily run off at this point, I don’t entirely see a point in acting out or doing anything rash. I’ve learned to accept my unfortunate fate over time.

I keep my eyes focused on the door, watching people come and go, the many faces fascinating because these are humans that breathe different air than us. They are respected members of society—so blind to the horrors the world has to offer.

The urge to pee grows stronger as I shake in my seat, wondering how much longer I’m expected to sit here. When the administrator doesn’t return ten minutes later (which I only know from staring at the clock), I grow high-strung and worried over the possibility of developing a kidney stone; I decide that he isn’t going to show. I can definitely spare a second to empty my bladder.

When I stand to look for the nearest bathroom, I spot a woman with square glasses and bangs splayed over the sides of her face frantically making her way through the doors, her eyes finding mine instantly.

“Eren Jaeger,” she speaks between gasps of air. She holds her hand out. “Hanji Zoe.”

I shake it without hesitation, but when I try to pull away, she tightens her grip, pulling me towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, I—”

“I’ll explain later. We need to hurry.”

It’s chilly outside, and it makes me wish I had a jacket. We don’t have far to walk, though, her car only a short distance away in the parking lot. It’s warm inside and smells of pine, though I’m not sure how my brain made that connection. Loud music fills the empty space when she begins to drive, and I daringly turn down the volume so that I can speak.

“Where are you taking me? Am I being transferred?”

“No,” she replies, the sharp turn of the car causing my body to budge to the left. “Just don’t worry about it right now. Erwin will explain everything. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? How old are you?”

Somehow I feel as though she already knew, but I answer anyway. “Eighteen.”

Hanji’s laugh catches me off guard. “Of course you are.”

“Do I look older or something?” I’ve always been told I have a baby face, but I’m not about to point out the obvious.

“Never mind. Why don’t you try to get some shut-eye? It’ll be another hour or so.”

The question entailing our destination remains on the tip of my tongue as I figure I won’t get an answer anytime soon. Even so, my mind too wired to sleep and my body too stiff to relax, I can only expect the worst as I lean against the window, focusing my half-lit eyes on the moving cars.


	3. Relocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of confusion in this chapter, but the next two will hopefully clear things up.

After an hour and a half of being stuck in a vehicle and avoiding the temptation to piss out of the window, I’m quite relieved when Hanji announces the nearing of our destination.

I was a freezing mess when we first entered the car, arms wrapped around myself in a futile attempt to keep warm. Now, the heater has been going this entire time, and at this point I’m hopelessly trying to determine if it’s appropriate to take off my shirt.

“Are you hungry?” Hanji asks, pulling into a _Jack in the Box_ parking lot.

Pressing my fingers carefully against my abdomen as to not piss myself, I can feel the emptiness and can’t recall the last time I devoured even a bite of food. Even the musty eggs back at the clinic sound perfect right now. Still, the growing anxiety is enough of a reason to say no to a highly tempting fast-food meal.

Except resistance is no longer possible when Hanji practically shoves her fries in my face.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried these,” she says, speaking with her mouth full.

I tentatively nibble at a fry. “They’re pretty good.”

Unable to remember the last time I set eyes on Northern California’s landscape, I try to make sense of the scenery on the highway. Mountains and big ass trees are typical, and I begin to grow tired of watching them for an hour straight. We’re moving so fast the trees blur together to form a muddle of green. The sight makes it difficult to keep my eyes open, and I doze off a couple of times, except fidgeting and racing thoughts keep me jumping awake.

Still having no clue where we’re headed, a flash of something called the Golden Gate Bridge comes to mind—the landmark for San Francisco. That means an urban area, though I have yet to see any taller buildings to signify it as such.

I frown when we come to a halt, observing three buildings set side by side—kind of like a mini outlet mall. This is a residential area, relatively small and on the outskirts of the city. Following the sound of the locks disengaging is Hanji exiting the driver’s seat and coming around to my side to help me out.

I want to shove her away in a most likely poorly-executed attempt at asserting myself and telling her that I’m capable of getting out of the car by myself, but I surrender, letting her take my hand and pull me out. My pride can wait today.

The sun is starting to set and the cold weather is still unwelcoming, causing shivers to navigate up my arms and making it burdensome to keep moving forward.

The first building is made of beige bricks, two windows, and a logo medially placed in some language I can only dream of deciphering. The second is loftier and darker, eight windows lined up across the top with orderly patterns—older-styled and a bit eerie if you ask me. The last building, sculpted of red bricks and a single window, has a sign that reads “Margo’s Nails.” Across the street stands another few sets of buildings, a couple of traffic signs bisecting them. It’s somewhat reassuring to know that we aren’t in the middle of nowhere.

When we enter the second one, I somehow expected different. With the window arrangement and the general structure, I presumed the interior would be either excruciatingly boring to look at or outrageously fancy. Neither happen to be the case. Nothing gaudy like a lab and not quite cozy like a suburban house either; it’s rather a mix of a home and an office. Very…normal.

Then again, normal means very little to me.

Hanji stands beside me with a cup of coffee in her hands that I haven’t noticed until now. She prods her thick, framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Hey, spare me the trouble and wait here. I have to be somewhere and I’d rather not be held liable if you run off.”

I can’t help but groan. I’m tired of waiting. “Can I at least use the bathroom?” I want to add a snarky comment in detail on how my bladder is ready to rupture, but I decide against it.

“Down the hall—this main hall,” she points ahead, “first door on the left. Don’t get lost.”

Surprised that she trusts me not to run away, I almost consider taking advantage of the opportunity. Except at this point my main concern is my bladder, and I find myself jittery with anticipation before gripping the waistband of my sweatpants and pulling them down with relief. (I can’t believe I wasn’t allowed a change of clothes; let’s just hope I don’t get a boner.)

I don’t know how my thoughts could have distracted me so much, but I must have been peeing ten pints a minute because I literally cannot feel the exact second urine stops shooting out of my dick.

I somehow end up washing my hands twice, mainly because my reflection sidetracked me. My eyes, normally an intense mix of emerald and blue, fall dull under the harsh lighting, the foot-deep bags underneath enough to reveal the prolonged effects of sleep-deprivation which, consequently, fucks up my entire appearance. My hair is a mess; I can’t recall the last time I washed it.

Except too much has happened since then. Starting that fight was enough of a reason to lay in bed for three days straight, and now here I am, still as confused as ever. I hope to get some answers before I totally lose it.

My hands are nearly wrinkly when I finally draw them away from the sink. When I leave the bathroom I spot a dark head of hair standing behind the door, of course not leaning against it, or I would have knocked him over.

“There’s no line,” I inform him after clearing my throat.

I heard a sigh before the man turns to face me. Though he’s shorter than me, intimidation is engraved in his sharp cheekbones, and coldness radiates from striking blue eyes; I have yet to even hear him speak. My cheeks tint with embarrassment as he begins to walk off but not before looking back at me and tilting his head to the side.

“Oh,” I say when I pick up on the hint to follow him. “Did Hanji send you to look after me?”

He continues to usher his way through the halls, looking back every now and then to make sure I’m there. Wherever he is planning on leading me, he’s irrevocably determined to do so without even a single syllable dropping from his lips. The exterior of the building really is no match for the interior—endless hallways extending far beyond the amount of room this framework allows.

Observant as always I find my eyes poking around for details of my whereabouts. Several bodies brush past us, and I nearly lose sight of the man in front of me. He walks fairly quickly, which makes sense, since he’s closer to the ground. I wave at a girl that passes us, and if she hadn’t blatantly disregarded me, I might have only pinned Shorty for his unusual temperament.

I’m out of breath by the time we reach the stairs, but I suppress the heavy gasps to hide the fact that I’m seconds away from an asthma attack while Shorty here is taking it like a pro.

“Hey, can we maybe...take a break or something?” I suggest, again struggling to sound coherent.

We’re close to the end of another hallway when Shorty stops dead in his tracks, turns around, and shoots me a disgruntled look. Whether or not that bitter expression is simply his face, it makes me swallow every ounce of regret for simply opening my mouth.

Standing perpendicular to the open door, he raises and points his arm toward it.

I frown. “Is this my room?”

His eyes widen a bit this time, and unless I’ve gone blind I swear he rolls them at me, proceeding to move his arm again with more emphasis this time.

I take that as a yes and enter the room with daring footsteps. For what it’s worth, the setup isn’t any different than what I’m used to. Freshly washed sheets, white walls…everything maddeningly pristine. Despite the absurd cleanliness, there are piles of boxes clustered together on the left side of the room, which indicates that this isn’t intended for a bedroom.

The only detail that sticks out to me is the stray red pattern on the ceiling above the bed; while too familiar for my liking, of course, it rings no bell.

Unlike the rehab clinic, I now have a room with an acceptable view. Instead of the square to peek out from, this window is vast in both length and width. It is, in fact, large enough that it brings a newfound glow to the room once I open the blinds, and even though nightfall is approaching, I can feel the dull rays of sunlight painting my skin, causing the hairs on my arm to rise.

The sound of the man’s footsteps lead me to avert my attention back to him, his figure leaning against the doorframe boredly.

“Are you Erwin?” I remember hearing the name earlier today.

Shorty crosses his arms over his chest. “Rivaille.”

I sigh, turning back to face the window while sensing eyes on my back. “So what is this place, like—is this another hospital, wait no—Hanji, that was her name, right? Yeah, she said that I wasn’t transferring, which doesn’t really make sense either. Even then, I don’t think—”

The door slams shut.

Sighing with defeat, I maneuver my way over to the bed. Drained and ready to drop, I slip my burnt out body between the clean sheets. It’s cold at first, but because the mattress is pleasant in comparison to my last one, it doesn’t take long to adjust; it certainly takes no time at all to fall asleep.

I sleep like a baby, needless to say, but when I awake several hours later I find I’m by some means confined to my bed. Instead of investigating how or why this became the case, I find my eyes slamming shut once more, whether or not that’s a result from the reassurance that everything will fix itself tomorrow. Then again, maybe I _am_ dreaming after all; false awakenings aren’t uncommon for me.

Hanji comes by shortly after, at around the crack of dawn. If I didn’t sleep so soundly, I might have been okay with being dragged out of bed so early in the day. It never makes sense to me; if the sun isn’t up, why am I?

She enters with what my blurred vision can pin as a half-smile. “I see Levi showed you your room. I’m surprised he didn’t get someone else to do it for him.”

I quickly take note of the man’s name. He told me yesterday, but I obviously forgot, although I swear he gave me a different name.

Hanji stands at the end of my bed, arms crossed. I would say I have a short attention span, but I can’t remember anything in the long run, either. Nonetheless, she looks more or less the same as yesterday, her hair in a neater ponytail and brown eyes more awake, more alive. She’s undeniably taller than me, especially so considering she’s wearing five inch heels today.

“How did you sleep? I made sure to give you the best mattress we have,” she says with a grin. She is surprisingly chirpy this morning.

“Well, thanks. It was nice,” I reply, and because Hanji isn’t difficult to talk to, the smile I feign holds some truth to it.

“Ready to meet Erwin? Well, it doesn’t really matter if you’re ready."

I realize I am still dressed in sweatpants and a band tee as we descend into the basement, the walk surprisingly doesn’t seem as long as yesterday’s—perhaps last night’s sleep being the reason. Hanji leaves me to my own devices after leading me to double doors at the end of the hall.

It’s a considerably large space. The walls must have been constructed of stone or something artificial for the texture to appear. No windows, no doors other than the ones I entered through. Two or three tables line the end of the room, displaying all kinds of equipment from microscopes and glass sets to knives and bottles.

I spot a blond at the end of the room, his figure growing after he acknowledges my presence and, finally, approaches me. As he draws closer, I pick out that his hair is parted down the side, the blond on his head having hardly visible coffee-colored roots, and something about it looks naturally shiny in the dim lighting. I’m forced to lift my head to meet his eyes. Full eyebrows spawn above the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, his gaze not only serious but daunting.

“You must be Eren.”

I nod. “You must be Erwin.”

“I know how smart you are, Eren,” he assures me. His voice is assertive. Strong. “No need to prove it.”

“I was just making sure. I confused the shorter guy for you earlier, if we’re being honest here.”

“Levi?” Erwin raises an eyebrow, displaying all of its shapeliness. He snorts, flicking a strand of hair away from his face. “If you say so. Have a seat.”

There is a single chair in the middle of the familiar design—a ring surrounding the outline of a star with five symbols located in between the edges of where the star connects with the circle. I sit down and continue to stare at the ground.

“What’s with this pattern? I keep seeing it everywhere.”

Erwin, again at the back of the room, turns his head toward me. I can see him frowning. “That’s a devil’s trap.”

“Well yeah, I recognize the pentagram and all, but I don’t understand. Is this some sort of Halloween trick?” The odds are unlikely, considering the holiday ended two months ago. My eyes light up. “Oh, are we shooting the next Paranormal Activity movie?”

“Ah, yes. You could say we’re going to exorcise some demons today.” I’m smart enough to understand it’s a joke.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Always is.”

I drum my fingers across the left arm of the chair. “None of the movies were actually that scary. Not that I really remember anything about them, but they were pretty lame, honestly. I prefer _The Conjuring,_ I think that one came out pretty recently.”

Erwin, too absorbed in whatever the hell he’s doing, only mumbles, “Yeah.”

I have to admit, as intimidating as he seems, tensions diminish with the small talk, and it certainly lifts my spirits. Also the fact that he’s dressed rather nicely reassures me that he might have good intentions after all. After all, a mahogany-colored leather jacket zipped halfway down his chest with washed-out jeans doesn’t exactly spell out “cold-blooded serial killer” to me.Nope, Ifucking _own_ that role in tedious grey sweatpants, the gloomy bags under my eyes enough to inwardly impose a threat.

I turn my head sharply to the left upon hearing the sound of the doors swinging open. Levi makes his way across the room, removing his gloves and tossing them onto one of the tables without wasting a glance on me.

“Petra is going for a coffee run. Want anything?”

“The usual,” Erwin responds.

“Decaf, then?”

“Of course.” He raises an eyebrow as though Levi is fucking stupid for wanting to confirm the fact. “And tell her to stop going to Starbucks. Yeah, they carry some high-quality beans, but we _do_ have a budget, and they tend to rip us off.”

Levi taps away on his phone while Erwin returns to his business in the back.

He must have been dressed down yesterday because I now see a handsome man, torso covered with a dark grey, not quite deeming the color black, wool trench coat that falls past his hips and over his thighs. His dark blue jeans cling to his legs like moss to a tree—overall, I see somewhat of a feminine body if it isn’t for the broad shoulders telling me otherwise.

Either way, I’m dumbfounded and find myself watching the way his hair falls into his face as he scribbles something down on a clipboard: silk black, parted down the middle, an undercut that goes about halfway down his head, strands flowing down the left and right sides of his forehead.

“Petra will be here soon,” Levi says to Erwin who scoffs. “What? We need our caffeine, even if we’re raising Lucifer from the depths of hell. _Especially_ if we’re raising Lucifer from hell.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Levi presses a hand against the table, balancing himself as he leans to the side. “So how is he? Has he tried to rip your throat out yet?”

Erwin’s glance lands on me. “He’s quiet. I’ve been told he’s a loudmouth, but I guess I was misinformed.”

I frown. “What?”

Erwin crosses his arms, eyes lingering on me a second longer before returning to Levi. “Are you sure it’s him? Did Hanji bring the wrong person again?”

Levi looks at me, his gaze so naturally intense that I have to fight to keep my eyes from pulling away. “Stand up. Walk over to Erwin.”

It takes me more than a secondto register that he’s speaking to me. Following his orders I stand and set about walking forward when an invisible force prevents me from moving any further.

“Whoa, what?”

Eyes gaping open, I touch the empty space in front of me to find that there is indeed nothing there. I try to take another step but am stopped once more, my foot unable to cross the red pattern. Is this part of the reason I couldn’t get out of bed last night?

“Okay,” Erwin nods. “Clearly confusion is the main factor here. Something must be wrong with the host.”

I absentmindedly drop my body onto the chair. “Can someone...tell me what’s going on?”

My eyes follow Levi as he circles around me. Arms crossed and eyebrows knitted together, once again a particular look of disinterest settles in his expression. He stops, his back to my face and his hand resting on my shoulder.

“Thoughts?” he says to Erwin, who has his fist tucked under his chin, eyes staring blankly ahead as he ponders.

“He’s acting strange…but we can’t deny his identity at this point. You don’t think he’s trying to pull something, do you?”

“Well, no, but we have no evidence to prove he isn’t acting,” Levi claims.

Are they actually, legitimately serious right now? I can’t _not_ say something now.

“An act? You think this is an act?”

Levi withholds his poker face. “It’s just an assumption.”

“You fucking think I _enjoy_ being this confused all the time?” I snap, unable to contain my thoughts any longer, far too hot headed to consider anything else. “Oh yes, I fucking _get off_ to the idea that my entire life up to this point is a blur and that I may never recall anything again. Let me just fuck with your minds as if mine isn’t already enough to handle.” Breathing hard, I pretend the two pairs of eyes aren’t staring at me like I just admitted to a crime. I manage to calm myself down before speaking again. “So _please_ , can you just spare me the eternal turmoil and tell me what’s going on?”

Silence only echoes throughout the room for a mere second. I hold onto the belief that I will finally get my way with them until Erwin opens his mouth.

“We’ll let you know when we figure it out.”

I can only groan. “Fucking perfect.”

If I haven’t already been on edge, I only grow more uncomfortable watching as Erwin goes over to the left table, picking up something I can’t see.

“Levi.” Erwin tilts his head, gesturing toward me. Almost immediately Levi rises from his seat, a roll of rope in his grasp. Quick to make his way over to me, he doesn’t hesitate to grab my hands and pull them behind me. Despite his gentleness with me, my body is in tremors as he binds my wrists together, every part of me fearing what will come next.

He retrieves a typical booze flask, and I am certainly not prepared when a surge of some liquid splashes me in the face, burning my skin immediately. And God, it fucking _stings_. Though none of it gets anywhere near my eyes, tears wells anyway and I can’t help the sharp yelp that leaves my mouth. It feels as though someone just dumped a kettle of blistering hot tea onto my face while prodding my cheeks with needles.

“What—” My voice comes out small. I shake my head as if it can somehow brush off the horrifying sensations. “What the _fuck_?”

“Holy water,” Levi replies softly, his voice still smooth and unfazed. “Okay, let’s see your blood.”

Pulling up my sleeves, my cheeks litter red as I hope for all that was holy in the world he wouldn’t say anything about the self-inflicted scars. To my surprise, I got lucky, though it soon became clear that my mental struggles are no issue to him.

He holds the pocketknife over my arm, and before I can even open my mouth, the blade makes a small incision on my wrist, opening a previous wound and causing crimson fluid to gather over the broken skin, a pang of pain shooting through me and eliciting a hiss.

“Levi,” Erwin says.

“How is that fucking possible?” Frustration is all I could detect in his voice now. Levi spares no second before pressing the tip of the blade against my shirt over my chest, causing a small whine to surpass my throat.

Erwin steps forward. “Levi, stop.”

My eyes dart down to the knife; I can literally feel my pupils constrict as I watch the end disappear into the center of my chest until the pain is indubitably felt. “No, _no_! You can’t do this!” I shriek.

He won’t stop, and I have a feeling nothing can stop him. Through my screams and sobs, I can see in the grey-blue of his eyes that he’s dead-set on killing me right here and now. The existential crisis: why am I still yelling? The more-than-obvious ache in my throat is enough of a reason to stop, and yet something keeps me going. How bizarre it is to beg for my life now when I’ve wanted nothing more than to end it every single day.

Then, I feel something. Something unsheathing itself from beneath the surface. Something I can’t latch onto.

“Get away from me! Don’t fucking touch me. I will destroy you and every sorry entity in this world including Eren if you don’t step back now!”

My mouth clamps shut, leaving me in shaky breaths as the images vividly swirl into my mind, my eyes widening at the things I’m seeing. And just like that, it all vanishes.

Clueless as I am, _whatever the fuck happened_ causes Levi to pull the knife back to his side, traces of blood at the very tip, and step away from me with a horrified expression on his face.

“What just—shit! Oh my God,” I breathe out. Gasping for air with sweat beaming down my forehead, the discomfort is almost too much to bear. My head throbs in agony, and even blinking hard a couple times does nothing to ease the never-ending pain. If anything I feel as though I’m about to faint. “Oh my God. Make it _stop!_ ”

“Levi,” Erwin says. “Kill the host.”

In that moment two things happen.

First, all the breath is knocked out of me. I can feel my eyes rolling back and my vision starting to blur, tear ducts releasing moisture down my cheeks. I manage to look down to see splotches of blood dripping from my face and staining my pants. Levi’s still at my side, hands clutching my shoulders in a hopeless endeavor to stop my erratic movements.

There’s the sound of Erwin shouting indistinctly in the distance—of course, overpowered by the insufferable buzzing in my head that only grows with every second I sit there taking it.

Second, images and words flood my memory banks, blood pounding in my ears loud enough to replace my clouded vision with darkness. I feel the sting as _sharp_ and _cold_ pierce into my skin, the pain gradually diminishing until it subsides into dull nothingness.


	4. Intuition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots revealed in this chapter, just an FYI.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my betas, I wouldn't have gotten this far without them. Here are their tumblrs, shoot them a message if you'd like :)  
> [levianderen](http://levianderen.tumblr.com)  
> [bestialitybondage](http://bestialitybondage.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!~

The sun’s minimal radiance is something that often goes unappreciated.

In a world of outer darkness, fire is everywhere—the walls, the skies, and every entity set ablaze. Flames blaze every inch of my body, intense heat scorching my once tender skin into oblivion. Now a prisoner to my thoughts and sensations, I can taste the fire as it burns my insides, the pain only dissipating long enough to lead me to falsely believe this is my eventual death only to reverse itself and repeat the process without offering any hiatus. Suffering is accepted as easily as is confinement. Cries, curses, and pleas leave my mouth, pools of blood gathering in my throat and flying out to allow room for the screams to continue. Never are any other voices heard but my own.

Hallucinations constantly fight the wall between reality and nightmares. The cages hold never ending pain—physical, emotional, and spiritual. Never quite sure whether I am dead or alive, unbearable agony is guaranteed with the betrayal of the thoughts and suspension of disbelief that will haunt me every second of every day for eternity. And then the gates swing open, flames oxidizing and cool air slapping against my open wounds, my view blanketed with sheer white.

Wings enter my sight, followed by the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

_“And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, Some to everlasting life, Some to shame and everlasting contempt.” (Da 12:2)._

 

When my eyes fly open, the entirety of my body is overcome with spasms. Pain shoots across my chest, my skin cool and bare, and breathing is laborious. It doesn’t take long for the previous events to come back to me as I draw the line between my mind and reality: I am still in the basement room with Levi and Erwin, evidently wounded.

As I fully regain my vision, familiar vibes shoot through me as my eyes scan my surroundings, giving me a sense as though I’ve been here many years ago.

“He’s up,” Erwin confirms, Hanji and Levi making their way over from where they sit.

I eye each one of them suspiciously, trying to make better sense of the situation. Levi rips a sugar packet open with his teeth, while Erwin and Hanji peer at me curiously.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine,” I answer Hanji. “What happened to my shirt?”

“We had to take it off so we could bandage you up.” My eyes fly down to my chest, a sizable strip of white covering the area beneath my left breast, a large splotch of blood soaking through. “Are you sure you’re fine? No pain or anything? Do you remember anything?”

My eyes fall upon Levi and the way he’s downing his cup of coffee impressively. He sits on a stool, his legs barely touching the ground. When the memory registers, I shudder and avert my attention quickly. “I, uh...I want to say I was stabbed, except I don’t feel like it? I think I was having a panic attack or something.”

Hanji nods. “Something like that. What did you dream about, Eren?”

I blink hard. My head aches, and if my hands weren’t still tied, I’d press my fingers against my temples to alleviate the throbbing. “It...hurts to think, but it was pretty vague. I saw fire? Like, it was literally everywhere. There was pain—lots of it. Not that I really felt anything. There was this man with wings, but I woke up before I had the chance to see his face.”

“I see. Do you have these dreams a lot?”

“Yes.” Recurring, too. I’m not stupid; I know of the possibility that these visions entail memories. I am, however, stupid for never taking time to try to recollect the dreams.

“Okay.” Hanji claps her hands together almost excitedly, drawing her attention away from me. “You said he’s suffering from memory loss, correct?” Erwin nods right as the brunette begins rambling away. “The reason you were in the clinic has to do with an incident you are unable to recall, yes? Well, to put it plain and simple, you didn’t kill anyone, Eren.”

The news doesn’t shock me by even my own standards, but I frown anyway. “I didn’t? I mean, I kind of always _knew_ I wasn’t capable of murder, but—”

“Let me continue,” she says sternly, though there is nothing impatient in her tone. “The part of the brain clearly damaged is the hippocampus—your memory site. Now, while you were out I’ve arrived at some possibilities for what happened and how it involved you.”

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour, which is surprising considering you’re severely wounded, but we’ll get to that later. I first speculated the idea that you’re showing the early signs of Alzheimer’s disease, except they never show until at least the early thirties, so that’s out of the question. Then I considered chronic traumatic encephalopathy, which is characterized by a series of blows to the head over a long period of time and involves things like depression, loss of coordination and, of course, memory. Except symptoms don’t show until a post-mortem diagnosis, and since you appear to be alive, that can’t be the case, either.” She snorts, fascinated by the facts flying out of her mouth. “So, I came to the conclusion that perhaps you’ve suffered traumatic head injuries. Can you remember anything from before the murder?”

“Um…I had flashes of—shit, was it baseball? Well, some sport practice, I dunno, but whatever. I remembered this during the incident, not before.” The fact that it takes so much brainpower to try to recall such a tiny, insignificant detail makes me want to slap myself in the face. I am unhelpful even when it benefits me.

“Ah, I see. So a sports-related injury is also a possibility,” she notes, arms crossed patiently.

I figured it can’t hurt to elaborate on what I _do_ remember, however unimportant it might be. “Okay, I was lying next to the dead body, covered in mine or someone else’s blood, so maybe I was attacked. Could that mean something?”

Hanji’s eyes dart to the floor. “It could mean anything. However, I _do_ know what happened and I’m more than happy to explain if you’re willing to listen. No matter how…erm, ridiculous some of it may sound.”

I lean forward in my seat, as far as I can go, beaming with eagerness. “Please. If you believe it will help me remember, please tell me.”

“Oh, good! That’s what I wanted to hear.” Hanji grins, batting a hand at Levi to get up, who sighs and lets the brunette take his stool. “I’ll keep it short and simple for now. I’m assuming you’ve figured we need you here for a reason, and you should know that reason has to do with the incident, but not in the way you’d think. I still have my disbeliefs regarding what you are, which is why I’m avoiding mentioning any specifics. So far we’ve evaluated that you _do_ have different blood, while on the other hand, you sleep even though the task is unnecessary. There’s a possible explanation for this. Let me ask you this: how well do you sleep?”

I don’t even have to think to answer this one. “Fucking lousy. I have nightmares almost every night, every other one spawning false awakenings, and the nights I don’t wake up screaming I spend laying awake all night. Most of the time it feels like I don’t even sleep at all.”

“You might be onto something there, Eren. You see, demons usually can’t sleep.”

“Demons?” I raise an eyebrow. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Maybe I should have taken Erwin seriously with the Paranormal Activity movie suggestion. I can only arrive at one conclusion at this point: everyone here beats me in my own game of insanity.

Erwin clears his throat. “Like she said, listening with an open mind is important here. While nothing makes sense now, it will click later, so allow me to explain. Eren, you’re not human and we’ve proved it. You see this devil’s trap? Try to walk past it again and tell us we’re lying. Go for it.”  

My face flames from the attitude he displays. “I’m good.”

“We confirmed you have demon blood, and that you don’t sleep. Clearly, _you’re_ under the belief that you do, so this is only technically a theory. But we do know that it’s you because we’ve been looking for you. Have you had access to the Internet or anything lately?” He’s already pulling out his phone before I had the chance to shake my head. “Check this out.” He types my name into the search bar, articles upon articles with the words “demon” and “unknown” on the titles. Clearly Eren Jaeger is a common name, my surname spelled in all kinds of ways from _Jaeger_ to _Yeager_ and even _Jäger_.

“I don’t understand. Why is my name so important?”

“It’s not just your name; it’s you.”

"Demons, though..." I use my finger to scroll down the page, filtering out the words that stick out to me. "Unknown type?"

Erwin nods. "There are three types of demons. The most common are unclean spirits that start out as ghosts and let their anger drive them to compulsive vengeance. They're evil entities—the kind you typically see in movies. Fallen angels are the least common, and the name really says it all. These demons were once angels who were kicked out of heaven for their rebellion, so Satan is the prime example. And then the final category is where you fall in—the unknown type. Just like the unclean spirits, this type started out as humans. They are able to possess other creatures, and just like the other types, they can take on different forms."

"Wait, what? I'm...what?" I sit still, struggling to process the information altogether. "I don't think I understand...I mean, I might have lost my memory, so what do I know, right? But arriving at that is a bit far-fetched, don't you think? Surely there’s something else..."

"There's more to it. While you fall in as an unknown type, something about you differs from that of other demons," he begins, once again piquing my interest only to change the subject dramatically. "Take a look at those articles when you get the chance. Something might come back to you, you never know. Anyway, there’s still much to discuss… Where was I?” Erwin rubs his eyes.

"Demon types and what makes him unique," Levi fills him in.

"Ah, okay. So we've established you're an unknown type. Your traits also resemble that of a fallen angel with the exception you were born human. There's actually a story, I'll look it up," he types into his phone, "but when you died you were offered a deal—"

"I'm dead?" My eyes widen, the shock outlying the realization that I interrupted him.

"That's kind of how demons work, kid." Levi snorts, and Erwin shoots him a glare.

"The deal was that you pass on to heaven where you work with God—almost like a messenger but not an angel because you were human." _Were._ "You refused for reasons I'm sure you can figure out, and as a result, you were banished to Hell."

Still shocked, I stare blankly ahead. "My dream..."

"Yes, you dreamed about Hell."

"So you're telling me all those nightmares…were memories?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," he confirms.

The idea is too unbelievable to even consider so I don’t say anything else. Erwin takes my silence as his cue to continue.

"I understand you’re still digesting everything, but I figure it can’t possibly hurt you to know the full extent of the situation. So, okay, you’re capable of possession. We refer to the creature being possessed as the host, so keep that in mind. Demons are supposed to have full control over the host, body and mind. You, Eren, are an ambiguous case. There appears to be slight dilemma regarding your host. To put it simply, you lack full control over your own mind. We don’t understand how this is even possible, but we’ll get to that later. This also accounts for the memory loss, as does the fact that while you can remember subtle details about your life prior to the incident, most of these memories have integrated with the host’s.”

Somehow I manage to comprehend everything within the span of seconds. Reasonably boggled from what I’ve heard, nauseousness rises from the pit of my stomach; I swallow the bile settling in the back of my throat. “So, what you’re saying is there’s no way I can know which memories are mine?”

“I wish I could tell you, but clearly the situation is a little more complicated than what we’re used to.” Erwin’s gaze drops to the floor, voice still flat but with an unprecedented edge to it. “We don’t know how the host managed to take on a demon—let alone someone as powerful as you.” I blush at that, though doubt overshadowed astonishment. “My guess is there was something supernatural about him to begin with.”

“What happened at the mur—incident, then? Is that even relevant anymore?”

“Yes. Ah, that’s where the possession took place, actually. Hanji stated it before, and I’ll say it again; you didn’t kill anyone.” Again, relief isn’t an option when my thoughts are still comparable to scrambled eggs. “You must have made a deal, and your host must have tricked you somehow. We don’t know.”

My uncertainty alone is enough to drive myself to madness, but Erwin’s hesitance to disclose the full truth makes me want to tear someone’s throat out.

I clench my fists as hard as I can. “You said you would tell me everything.”

“We’re telling you everything we know up to this point,” Levi chimes in, eyes boring into mine. “Why don’t we try to handle this professionally now?”

“Professionally? How am I even supposed to take _any_ of this seriously? How do I know you aren’t just fucking with me?”

“Sorry, but our reasons go way beyond making a show out of you, not that this hasn’t been mildly entertaining.”

“There’s one more important thing we need to talk about,” Hanji says. “We’re currently experimenting with ways we can help you regain control—most efficiently by paralyzing the host without killing him.” I glance down at the bandages, verifying the fact, only for my head to perk up at the sound of my name.

Hanji remains standing in front of me, Erwin handing her tools from behind. “Eren, we’re going to try something really fast, okay? It appears the host is already beginning to recover from the chest wound, so this will further paralyze him and allow you time to think.”

“Why can’t we just kill the host?”

Hanji opens her mouth, but it’s Levi who speaks. “You can’t.”

“Why?”

“You kill the host; we kill you.” Grey-blue peer coldly at me again, the same dead eyes that didn’t hesitate to kill me before.

Still, not even that can stop me from asking questions. If anything, it sparks a memory. “I thought Erwin said he wanted the host dead.”

Silence pans throughout the room; clearly, I’m not getting an answer.

I flinch slightly when Hanji’s cold fingers touch my arm, and don’t bother to turn away as I watched the needle sink into my skin.

“This should only affect the host like the knife did earlier,” she tells me. “Let me know if you feel anything.”

Almost instantly my headache disappears, leaving me to freely explore the thoughts racing at me in a frenzy. I can feel myself zoning out into my own little world of contemplation as words and phrases fill my mind—stories that register as random facts yet figments of my imagination. And then it’s gone.

“Eren?”

I blink, tears gathered in my eyes from holding them open for so long. I focus them on Levi who lifts an eyebrow at me.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” I say, sounding a little frazzled. “Where'd Erwin go?" How long have I been cluelessly staring at him?

"He needed a break."

My head twitches slightly to the left. "You’re a…demon hunter?”

Levi frowns.

Hanji nearly shoves him over to get to me, a sly smile making its way onto her face.  “How did you know that?”

"Lucky guess?" I blink hard, the dizzy feeling resurfacing. "I just _knew_. The thought was kind of just...there, you know?"

"You don't sound too certain."

"I know. Shit, something really is screwing with my brain." I wince at the pain spreading across my forehead.

Hanji sighs solemnly, making her way behind me. Cold skin brushes against my hands for only a second before the pressure of the ropes disappears completely, leaving behind bright pink indentations on my wrists.

"It's almost noon. Why don't we grab some lunch? Fresh air never hurt anyone."

I scoff, rubbing at my arms. "Well, I'm already dead, so fair point.”

Hanji snorts, then turns to Levi. "I like this kid. We're gonna have lots of fun with him. You coming?"

"No thanks, shitty glasses. I'd love to, but I've already made plans to watch grass die."

"Fine. No mediocre Italian cuisine for you."

"Guess life is no longer worth living," Levi mutters while slipping black leather gloves over his long, pale fingers. He looks at us both, seriousness embedded in his fixation. "Stay out of trouble. I mean it. If I come back tonight to hear he's brought about the apocalypse in the middle of fucking Olive Gar—”

Hanji smacks his arm. "He'll be _fine._ And we're not going to Olive Garden. You remember what happened last time."

"How could I forget?"

I frown, my curiosity piqued.

"Sasha got us kicked out for ordering ten servings of bread," Hanji clarifies.

Levi shakes his head disapprovingly. "Goddammit, Sasha."

Hanji pulls out her phone, her fingers tapping the buttons at an impeccable rate. "Ready, Eren?"

"You assfucks better bring something back," Levi says with a glare, holding the door open for us and shutting off the lights on our way out.

Oddly enough, I end up walking ahead of the two, surprised that neither are attempting to restrain me even when I begin to move further from them. I manage to retrace my steps once we make it to the top of the stairs. Upon looking for the right hallway, my eyes glue to a man walking my way, his hair a very light brown with a darker undercut, and incredible facial features to die for.

He cocks an eyebrow and grins as he passes me, the brief exchange of body language causing my cheeks to flush. I force myself to keep moving forward until I notice the absence in the sound of footsteps.

Turning around, I catch Levi facing the man, which makes his vertically-challenged state much more obvious. Not in a bad way, though. I’d freely admit it’s almost endearing if the thought itself doesn’t enhance the nearly nonexistent pain eased behind bloody bandages.

"Jean, Erwin needs you downstairs.”

The man—Jean—meets my gaze. I hear a gasp followed by an almost inaudible, “Oh my God, who is _that_?”

Levi sighs. I can tell he’s rolling his eyes, even though his back is toward me. Unlike Jean, the shorter man makes no effort to lower his voice. “You’ll have plenty of time to fawn over fresh meat later. This is urgent.”

"Fresh meat? You mean he—"

Hanji pulls me away before I can catch the rest. She sighs. "Oh, Jean."

"French?" I don’t care enough to know, but it definitely sparks a conversation as we head out.

"Yeah, French. So is _Rivaille."_

"Rivaille?" I buckle myself in, quick to turn down the radio the second the car started.

"Yeah, Levi’s birth name.”

I lean back in my seat, gently caressing the pink lines of my healing scars and carefully moving past the fresh one, which, thankfully, isn’t still bleeding.

Hanji turns the heater on, speaking softer that she did earlier. "I was thinking that, if it isn't too much of a trigger to you, maybe we could go back to the crime scene—the place you lost your memory, I mean. To see if you remember anything?"

I don’t see any problem with that. "Yeah, but what about lunch?"

"Oh, we wouldn't go until later. Don't you even worry about anything but food right now."

She takes me to some pizza place nearby, which doesn’t exactly exceed my expectations. Even though my stomach is growling and demanding to be filled, I find I’m unable to eat more than two slices.

Hanji doesn’t give me shit for it, though, which brings about a bizarre sense of déjà vu. Still, I’m sure it meant nothing. Perhaps my mother always forced me to eat or something like that before she passed.

"You're taking this surprisingly well," Hanji says after sipping her Coke.

I shrug, not really agreeing with her.

"I mean it. Like, if I were in your situation right now I'd probably be going batshit crazy with the amount of information tossed around."

I accidentally pull too much cheese off the bread with my tongue which causes chuckles to erupt out of me. "It really is a lot to take in," I say once I sober up. "I'm still confused on a lot of things, and it doesn't feel like it's real. I'm not saying I'd more easily believe it if this was practical, but just the fact that it's _me_ , you know? Then again it's hard for me to believe anything anymore, so maybe that's why I'm adjusting so easily."

She nods. "You've done an amazing job so far; I'm sure you'll catch on in no time. Give it a day or two."

I chug the entire glass of water, earning widened eyes and a laugh from Hanji.

"I fucking told them to get you some water, but they were too busy making comments about your baby face." She snorts.

"What? I do not have a baby face." I cross my arms over my chest defensively, wincing slightly when I make contact with the wound.

"You do when you sleep. Or, when you're out, I mean. You don't really even sleep, did we talk about this?"

"You touched on it briefly," I recall. "Hanji, I'm...pretty old, right?"

"Yeah..." She displays a half-smile. "You know I'll never get used to this, but I don't think you realize just how exciting it is that you're starting to remember. I can't even imagine all that confusion in that little head of yours."

"Well, it's gotten me this far." It isn’t until after I speak the words that I realize how poorly chosen they were.

It’s certainly weird to think about. What I do know is I have been dead all along. How was I supposed to know I no longer have the luxury of death even in my darkest hours with a doornail working against my wrist. There are so many things I want to know, if only I can pinpoint the thoughts long enough to form them into coherent questions.

I had to open the door for Hanji on our way out because she’s holding two pizza boxes, claiming that we quite literally have an army to feed.

The boxes somehow end up on my lap, the heat comfortably pressing into my thighs.

"Thanks for the food."

"You're awfully polite for a demon," Hanji smirks. "Although I _have_ heard nice things about you."

That’s one thing I haven’t yet thought to consider. "Are all demons bad?"

"Are all humans good? You know, Eren, we've been here for the longest time, but we're still learning every single day. In my experience most demons want only to bring down humanity or to seek revenge. I do believe there are exceptions, though."

“Is that why you’re so fascinated by them?”

“Most people find me crazy, a little on the reckless side when it comes to my studies, but I believe everything happens for a reason. There’s a reason we all exist, and there’s so much we haven’t learned about the supernatural. That’s why we need you, Eren. Not only because you are full of centuries worth of knowledge, but because you believe in a good cause.”

I smile for reasons I know I have yet to understand. “I guess if I have to be a demon, I might as well be respectable.”

“That’s a nice way to think about it. You can set that by your feet, if you want. Can’t have you burning your legs now.”

“It’s fine.” I tap the box gently.

“Okay, so I’m gonna let them know we’re coming. I’ll drop off the pizza, and then we’ll head over to the crime scene.” Hanji frowns. “I really hate saying that, but what else can I call it?”

The radio is still on, the lyrics nothing familiar to me. The tune is catchy, though, a little heavy on the rock side and full of angst. Somehow I find myself humming along until words slip out of my mouth.

Hanji glances over at me. “You like _the Offspring_?”

“I’ve never heard of them.” I frown. “Is this _Gone Away_?”

She grins.

I continue to sing my heart out. I figure genuinely enjoying myself for the first time in forever won’t last very long, but it still stings when my brief joyful moments are brought to an end by the ringing of Hanji’s phone.

“Yes, we’re actually on our way there. We have food,” she lowers her voice, raising her eyebrows suggestively at me. “Oh? What kind of problem?” When she makes an unnerving sharp turn, I’m tempted to ask her to at least put the call on speaker. “You _did_? Shit. See you soon.”

I sit up in my seat, nearly knocking the boxes over. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replies quickly. The car is moving dramatically faster, nearly ten miles over the speed limit, and I have to lift my knees to keep the pizza in my lap.

“Are you sure—”

“They found a demon. She claims to know you.”

Hanji literally runs the second we pull into the parking lot. Quick to follow and unsure of whether food is even an issue anymore, I leave the boxes in the passenger seat as I take off.

Strange vibes shoot through me as we make our way into the basement, into the same room I inhibited not even two hours ago. Except this time someone else is taking my place.

I see blonde hair in a ponytail as Hanji and I rush inside. There are lots of unrecognizable faces, but my worries are almost entirely nonexistent when I pick out Erwin, Levi, and Jean. Why there are so many people here is a mystery to me, and it does make me slightly uneasy.

“Eren!” I hear a female voice cry out, my eyes jumping to the girl chained to the chair, her bangs covering most of her face.

I frown for more reasons than one: why is she chained instead of simply tied up? What’s wrong with her? Who is she?

“Eren, it’s me! You remember me, right?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Levi mutters, splashing holy water onto her face.

Only when I hear her scream do I step forward. “How do you know my name?”

“You don’t recognize her?” Levi raises an eyebrow, speaking over her sobs. He snorts, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Guess you’ve been lying to me, then. _Pathetic_ piece of shit _._ ”

Fuck, I’m dizzy again. Unbelievably dizzy. I find myself questioning whether I have legs as I begin to fall backwards, Hanji’s hands finding my back and pulling me back to stand upright, my head spinning as I struggle to keep my eyes focused on the petite girl covered in blood and filth. When I regain control over my legs, I pull away from Hanji’s grasp, a dull ache in my chest the more I watched the girl.

“A-Annie?” I croak out, blue eyes meeting my gaze, then immediately a cloud of bafflement. “I’m sorry...I don’t know who you are.”

“You just said my name! How—”

Levi immediately slaps a hand against her mouth. “One more word and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out,” he warns in barely a whisper, but his voice carries throughout the room.

“Do it.” All eyes turn to look at me. I snap my eyes shut. “ _Kill her._ ”

The second my eyes fly open, a new sensation is sent surging through me, my bones igniting with power as I clench my fists and charge toward her with every force in my body, nothing to hold me back this time.


	5. Controversy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow somehow I surpassed 5k on this chapter (I may have gotten carried away with the Levi and Eren interactions, oops), but hopefully that makes up for the fact that this is like a month late lmao
> 
> Again, I am very grateful for my betas and you can follow me on tumblr at erenandlevi if you wish :)

Red brims my vision as my hands latch onto the girl’s body. Snarling lowly, I can feel the fury in my blood, the flames spreading to my arms as I claw at her face, punching her repeatedly with no time to waste. Pleas and cries executed, nothing can physically stop me from ending her sick and pitiful life. And Levi grabbing me from behind only intensifies the determination to do what I came here for.

Thrusting my body back, I manage to throw him off long enough to drag my nails down the girl’s pale cheeks, blood the only moisture running down her face. I didn’t expect the fucking bitch to cry, anyway.

“Fucking brat,” I hear the shorter man. “I don’t have all day,” he mutters with indignation, cool fingers pressing into the nape of my neck, my body collapsing to the floor all at once.

Rage exhausting me from every angle, I quickly gather and prepare myself to lash out at Levi for even trying to put me down. Except the second we make eye contact, slivers of myself slipped through the cracks, the undeniable power still there along with something familiar. Levi scrutinizes me—eyes selfishly taking me apart piece by piece. I see him clearly now, my insides stirring as grey-blue orbs viciously show me no indication to his probable thoughts.

Finally, he points out, “Your eyes are black.”

“They tend to do that.”

“Eren?” Hanji’s scrunches up her forehead. “You’re speaking out of line… Do you even know what’s going on?”

Levi sighs. “A little too late to be asking that.”

“I know exactly what’s going on, alright?” I reply harshly, averting my attention toward Annie. There is no hesitation here, no second guessing. "Just let me do what needs to be done.”

Levi steps in my way, foot slamming against mine. “You won’t lay a finger on her until we have our facts straight. So stop wasting our time and talk.”

My nails dig into the palms of my hands, my fists still clenched tight by my sides. I lose sight of the situation as unfamiliar faces fill my mind, the accommodated aching in my head only offering further irritation. I scowl, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip enough to draw blood. The more Levi glares at me, the more I want to smack away the disapproval from his face.

“I worked with this crew many years ago,” I begin. “Way before you even knew how to crawl. I had a partner,” I eye her carefully, “but we didn’t share the same goals. You could even go as far as saying she betrayed me.”

Words now make sense, no longer meaningless phrases formed out of nowhere and brought into the open.

The scene is already in my head. Blood everywhere. Covering the walls, splotches scattered messily across the floor, every corpse drained to create puddles—all clearly the work of an amateur who played her cards carefully. Even closing my eyes doesn’t rid me of the inevitable grief already forming a knot in my throat.

Countless lives were lost that day.

Angry tears spring to my eyes as I groan, bringing my fist to the air only to drop it to my side. “They didn’t deserve to die. We might be similar in what we are, but we will never be the same. You _monster,_ ” I hiss. “You had no _right_ to determine the fate of their lives. You think you can just play God and get away with it?”

I don’t expect her to listen, but nothing prepared me for this. Annie fucking _laughs,_ her head falling forward, face red from her atrocious cackling. Even Levi has to take a step back.

“Oh, Eren. You’ve always been so passionate when it comes to morality—it’s actually quite sickening—but you seem to be forgetting one minor detail. We both know you were there with me every step of the way. You wanted it as much as I did. You just don’t want to risk your pride in a room full of people, right?”

“Let me tell you a little something about pride, _Annika_. The fact that I’m able to stand here and nottear your throat out is proof enough. Let's not forget that I stand by demon hunters whose intentions are to keep me alive, while you’re the one chained to a chair.”

“So what? You’re going to kill me, then?” She leans back in her seat with an amused snort. “I very well doubt that will solve anything. What will you do when I come back? And the time after that?”

Levi clears his throat. “We don’t plan to exorcise anyone today.” The truth is illuminated in every word.

“You seemed to overlook one minor detail, Annie,” I repeat her words back to her. “You see, humans are much smarter than you give them credit for. Twenty-four years ago you saw only a fraction of their worth. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

Jean enters my view, and I eye him cautiously, the knife shaking in his hand only catching me off guard for a brief moment. He moves to stand beside me, which is rather courageous for a human face-to-face with not just one demon, but two.

“Remember me?”

She cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Sorry, kid. You’d think I’d remember a nice face, though.”

Jean doesn’t say a word when Levi takes the knife from his hands. “Listen, I’m all for feminism and shit, so I’m gonna be nice here and let you keep your rights to your body, even though it isn’t actually yours.” He presses the sharp end of the knife flatly against Annie’s throat, smiling. “So tell me, where can I carve you?”

"You've got to be really fucking stupid. You realize I can just find a new host, right?"

"Not this time."

Annie’s elbows budge up with realization, the chains knocking them back down. She groans, a sharp whine leaving her throat. “Wait! If you kill me, you’ll never learn about Eren.”

“Oh, we know plenty.” He traces the tip of the blade across the slit of her neck, swiping his tongue across his lips. “What will it be?”

“Death always comes with a price. You know this body will die with me.”

“She’s been dead a long time.” I cross my arms.

I catch a glimpse of Jean snatching the knife from Levi and thrusting it into Annie’s chest. Light glows from her eyes and mouth for only a second before her lifeless body falls back against the chair.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, wordlessly letting the weapon fall next to his feet. His hands are rolled into fists, his forehead creased.

Levi brings two fingers over Annie’s eyes, shutting them with a sigh. “What a shame. She had such a pretty face.”

Jean dashes out of the room in trembling movements, leaving me frowning. I wonder what Levi or any of us could have said to possibly upset him.

"What's up with him?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Levi bends over to retrieve the knife, traces of blood left on the ground.

Why I decide to obey is beyond me, considering I don’t give two shits about Jean, a guy I don’t even know.

I make sure the door had shut behind me once I’m out of there. My head starts to spin again as I make my way to the stairs where the man sits with his face in his hands.

The five seconds I spend standing in front of him aren’t enough to catch his attention, so I clear my throat. "You okay?"

"I'm always okay." His voice breaks when he speaks.

I glance behind me to see if anyone followed before dropping myself beside him.

"What did she do to you?"

Jean removes his hands from his face, cheeks coated with tears. "Why do you assume—never mind. She... She killed my friend."

A moment of silence falls between us, but I know Jean doesn’t need me using it for pity.

"It was about two years ago. We put so much energy into finding her, and before today... Now that she's dead, I thought I'd feel different. Not necessarily better, but..." he gulps, "less empty. It hasn't been the same since Marco left." The absolute terror in his eyes is unmistakable with the mention of the boy’s name.

"Marco... He was your friend?"

Jean's eyes darts to the floor. "You could say…a little more. It was kind of complicated, but I never really got to tell him how I feel, which I regret more than anything. I had so many chances...so many times that got away from me. I don't even know why I'm telling you this, but I figure it's because you can help me."

"What do you—" My expression stirs into outright shock when I make the connection with the words.

"I miss him so much, I would kill a hundred demons just to see him again; I would do anything to have him back. I know you can help me, Eren, and I'm asking you dearly from the bottom of my heart—please bring him back."

Noticing that Jean is shaking, my first instinct is to move my hand to run circles against his back since comfort is what he clearly needs. Instead, I sit still and think his words over.

His voice was rife with passion; clearly Marco meant the world to him. Because the situation demands it, it isn’t hard to feel sorry for him. I have trouble determining if I would do the same in his shoes considering I've never felt anything close to adoration for another entity, let alone a human being. Still, the mental tug of war is too much for my recovering brain. I suppose I simply haven’t adapted to my usual level of thinking yet after being silenced for years.

I glance at Jean who has been watching me, face as sad and earnest as ever. Deal or not, I have to play my cards right. "Look, I want to help you. I really do.”

Jean’s look of hopefulness is almost begging to be stolen.

“It’s not as easy as you think, Jean, and I want you to treat this matter very delicately. Every action reflects who you are, and consequences will find you even when you least expect it.”

“You think I haven’t thought this through? What do you think I’ve been doing the past two years?” he snaps. “I know the price, and I’m willing to pay it. I’m perfectly aware what this means. Like I said, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t think you understand. Once you make a deal, there is no going back. I understand you miss him, and your determination to find him again is truly remarkable, but is it worth it? Can you really value one soul over another?”

I expect angry-Jean, but it’s sad-Jean that makes an appearance: arms folded over his chest, thin eyebrows furrowed together, eyes glowering at the ground, and lips pouting and trembling.

“Marco was so brilliant. So special to all of us. He really was the light at the end of the tunnel… He had so much potential. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“That doesn’t mean you do, though,” I press gently.

He draws a long sigh. “I can live without my soul if I can live with him.”

"Really?"

He speaks so softly it nearly makes me fearful for his sanity and mental safety. I simply cannot fathom how easily he is willing to sacrifice himself on the spot like this. It’s so unbelievably selfless. More often than not humans are amongst the most selfish beings. They mourn their losses with furtive cries, due to the realization that the certain someone can no longer be around to give whatever they did when they were alive. Granted that theory be true, many cry for purely the loss of life. No longer can Marco wander the earth and smell the sweetest flowers on a summer day. No longer can he experience the joys and regrets that come with being human.

I want to help, but I can’t allow Jean to put himself out there like this. So I sigh, trying a different approach. “Look, I don’t remember exactly what I need to do in the first place. I remember some of the contract, but some things are a little fuzzy.”

Jean nods. “I’ve had more than enough time to think everything over, so maybe you should take some time, too. Just...get back to me as soon as you can.”

“Fair enough. You gonna be okay?”

“Are you?”

I nod unknowingly, only taking a second to contemplate his question and whether or not he truly cares for an answer. My back pops when I stand up. "I’ll get back to you on that.”

I glance up to see several bodies exiting the room and walking past us, which provides me a sudden urgency to escape this dreaded conversation.

I’m about to stalk off when I hear a sigh followed by, "Eren?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

With barely a glance I manage to catch the smile on Jean's tear-soaked face before I leave him with an approving nod.

I enter the room with an extra skip in my step, eager to return while my memories are intact. Of course, knowing my luck, I will probably forget everything the second someone begins questioning me, which is annoyingly predictable at this point.

The majority of the people filed out of the room, leaving the original three with two others.

Levi speaks to them, thin eyebrow raised, but by the time I approach him he’s already finished with whatever he was saying. His eyes flicker over to me, expression unchanged. "So?”

"Yeah, um...I spoke to him and—" They didn't have to know. "Yeah."

He gives a curt nod. “Okay, so we’ve decided on your living arrangements. We can’t have you living in the storage room forever.”

I blush, slightly shameful that staying there was the extent to my expectations. I have to admit, though, for a storage room, they _did_ clean up rather nicely; the room was undeniably cozy and I would willingly spend another night up there.

A sigh falls from Levi’s lips as he glowers at the two strangers. “As you can see, I lost the bet, so I guess I’m taking the demon home. Hanji’s bringing your things over as we speak, so we can leave whenever it’s convenient for you,” he says in a way that makes it clear he’d rather die than spend more time with me.

I have trouble reading between the lines, trying to determine if there’s some sort of hidden message behind his words and whether or not I should even trust him to take care of me. Considering he tried to kill me earlier today, the likeliness of a friendship blooming seems very unlikely.

I also don’t _know_ him. Though I despise the idea of dependency, it’s sadly true that I’m not capable of taking care of myself at the moment, per se. Still, the idea that this man in what looks to be his twenties is supposedly in charge of a demon who has lived far longer than he could imagine is absurd.

“Wait, so I’m staying with you?”

Levi is hard to read, but I can’t deny the scowl following my statement. “Don’t make it sound like this is the fucking apocalypse.” His arms falls to his side. “Do us both a favor and don’t make it a big deal, okay? You’re lucky I agreed to it in the first place.”

I have no intentions of even questioning the matter, but his attitude makes me wish I did.

It’s quite literally cold as balls when we step outside, the icy wind only making it ten times worse. I find myself unknowingly skipping over to Hanji’s car with hopes of escaping the cold before realizing my mistake and turning the other way. Ridiculous it is that freezing temperatures are able to affect the supernatural to such a degree.

The inside of Levi’s car is rather spacious. It isn’t very big, no, but I suppose the fact that he keeps it looking so new and tidy makes the small space twice its size. I’m greeted with black leather seats and the smell of pine as I climb into the passenger seat, slight squeaks while I adjust myself.

“Did you clean up just for me?” I smirk.

“Yes, Eren. In those ten minutes you spent talking to Horseface I desperately ran out here in the blistering cold to clean out the shitty remains in my vehicle in staggering hopes of impressing you.”

“Horseface?”

He tilts his head and peeks at me from the corner of his eye. “You really haven’t noticed that Jean’s face almost resembles that of a horse?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Must just be me, then.” Beady eyes shift from my face down to my lap. The imposing thoughts only worry me until he mutters, “Seatbelt.”

I half expect blasting speakers and mainstream pop when the car turns on, but all I get is silence. His eyes remain focused on the road as he drives. I occupy myself with staring at the signs enough to confirm that Levi is intent on driving according to the speed limit. Silence prolongs, and it’s only after ten minutes of driving that he grows avid on changing that matter.

“You’ll tell me everything that happened back there, won’t you?”

“I—I don’t think I can.”

“Eren.”

“Fine, I'll try."

I press my hands against the side ventilation—the heat causing chills to travel up my arms. I eye Levi’s trench coat desperately.

“Well?”

I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. “It’s not as interesting as you’d think, but I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Annie and I were friends long ago. We shared the same goals, the same dreams... You could even say I had feelings for her. We met kind of by accident, but that’s typically how you meet people, right?” Forced laughter. “I actually saved her life…and she saved mine.”

_The night was downcast, the air filled with smog and blinking lights. I dug my hands into my pockets, breathing deeply through my nose, bouts of air leaving my mouth and fogging the air ahead of me. The road was tremendously lonely and I needed a place to stay, but I had no intentions of spending any more time out here._

_In the corner of my eye I saw a man. Creamy white fangs sprouted from his gums, his hands grasping the woman’s shoulder tightly. Everything about her screamed_ vulnerable _, and she wasn’t making a single attempt to defend herself. I feebly concealed myself behind a brick wall, quickly formulating a plan as I watched the events unfold._

_The man slung her head to the side, a hand on her neck, and before his teeth could do so much as touch her skin, I was charging at them, no hesitation as I pressed my thumb against his Adam’s apple, ripping out his throat in a matter of seconds._

_The girl’s body crumpled to the ground. I reached out to her, my bloodstained fingers gently tracing the side of her face. She flinched, eyes fluttering open to show indisputable black hissing back at me._

_A sense of assurance calmed my nerves enough for me to move closer to her, the blonde head of hair resting on my thighs._

_“How are you holding up?” I inquired._

_“Why did you do that?”_

_I stared at her solemnly. I reached out to her again, but she shoved my hand away._

_“I could have handled that myself. Who are you supposed to be, my knight in shining armor?”_

_My once sympathetic expression now fell into a frown. “I saved your life. The least you could do is show some appreciation.”_

_She rolled her eyes, and she must have been in severe pain because the simple action made her hiss and curse. “You didn’t have to be so fucking gruesome.”_

_“What else was I supposed to do? Pull out my revolver in the middle of the night when the sound can be heard miles away? You think we really need the police on this? I’m sorry to disappoint, but I did what I could.”_

_“Whatever. Can you just…” When she lifted herself from the ground, she began to recede; luckily, I caught her before her skull could make contact with asphalt. “Fuck. I must have hit my head on something.”_

_Alarm flooded my thoughts, and my eyes gaped at the sight of blood dripping from her hairline. I knew I had to do_ something _or another innocent life would end. Though I didn’t know her, she was undoubtedly a demon like myself, and so far hadn’t proved herself dangerous or anything of the like._

_With that thought in mind, I proceeded to help her up. I took her hand, and we were off._

“Eren?”

“’I’m fine. Sorry, I’ll continue.” I blink rapidly, moisture glazing my vision. “I didn’t know what else to do, but I couldn’t just _leave_ her. We didn’t have a place to stay, but the road wasn’t so bad when I didn’t have to face it alone.”

Tears seamlessly pour down my face, and my fingers prod my cheeks helplessly as I try to gather what is left of my masculinity.

Levi releases a long sigh, the car no longer moving when I feel a hand rest gently on my shoulder. I turn to face the man, immediately shameful.

“That’s all I remember,” I whisper. “I don’t know why it hurts so much...to simply think. It feels like I’m being struck by lightning every second I spend trying to reconnect with a memory. It doesn’t even feel real—it’s like it’s someone else’s story shoved in my brain, and I just—I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s fine. You’ve already told me plenty.”

I sniffle my nose, rather disgustingly, I might add, and nod in understanding. Glancing down at my hands, they appear to be shaking frantically, the hairs on my arms rising as I realize the memories I recollected moments ago.

I only wish to learn where they come from, and why they pain me so.

The remainder of the ride to his house is quiet, only the sound of the air vents breathing warmth against my skin and the incessant motion of my eyes sliding open and shut.

One minute my eyes peer straight ahead at the open road, the next a persistent finger tapping on my shoulder rouses me from my resting state.

I take in a few differences after exiting the car, ignoring the sudden breeze thrashing my arms. Unlike the previous location that might as well have been in the middle of nowhere, I am now looking at a small cottage house in an average suburban neighborhood.

I haven’t a clue what entails me past the cream-colored front door, but if there are any similarities to his car, I presume the interior to be exceptionally tidy.

“ _Bienvenue_ ,” Levi speaks, waving his hands dramatically as I make my entrance. “Shoes off. Can’t have a brat staining my floors.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters while removing his trench coat.

“I figured. With the size of your house.”

“Hey, don’t judge. Space might be tight, but it’s enough for me. If you wanted a fucking mansion, you should’ve asked Erwin to take you.”

I step further into the foyer, an open door on my left catching my attention. I point my finger in the general direction. “That your bedroom?”

“Don’t get any ideas, kid. You’re not sleeping there.”

“What was that about Erwin? Oh, and you never told me why I have to stay with you in the first place.” I bite my tongue in panic. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with you—”

“I’ll forgive you this time. It’s probably not your fault you can’t keep your damn mouth shut since you’re still in the process of relapsing. Remind me to locate your ‘off’ button later.”

I frown, but cannot find a way to respond.

“Okay. To put it bluntly, nobody else is as equipped to take care of you. Erwin… He likes to keep his personal matters separate from his work. Everyone else is in college for some apparent reason—as if killing monsters isn’t enough to kill time—so it was between Hanji and me.”

I smirk. “Let me guess, you flipped a coin?”

Levi snickers. “Pretty damn close. Except unlike the inconsistency the world offers, we like to play it fair. The majority vote was mine, and it’s clear now that not everyone is too fond of me. Honestly, to put me in such a dire situation—”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t want me here and everything sucks. Anything else?” I don’t even care.

“Don’t you have to piss or something? Because I do, and there’s only one bathroom, but I try to be humble to my guests and put their needs ahead of mine.”

“Really?”

“You don’t have to look so surprised. I _can_ be nice, you know.”

I actually was more surprised to hear that Levi had guests over, considering how closed-off he has appeared to me so far. But since I am _also_ nice, I’m going to mention it.

I snort. “We’ll see about that. I’ll take you up on that suggestion, though. Where’s the potty?” If my intentions are to sound like a fifteen-year-old brat, I am paving the road to excellence.

I can tell he’s cringing by the way his eyebrows furrow together sadly. “Through my room, on the right. I hope to God you’ll keep everything in the toilet because if I have to clean up after you, I swear it’ll be the last time you step foot in there.”

Jesus, this guy is really trying to scare me, and I can almost label his silly attempts as something cute. I smile. “In that case, I’ll make sure to piss in the sink.”

Levi’s room is substantially tidy with the exception of strewn bed sheets, though with the way everything else looks, this must not be a daily occurrence. It is a rather simple look, but I can’t deny that it looks awfully comfortable. Such a shame I can’t sleep here.

The bathroom is literally spotless; you could probably lick the floor and have a cleaner mouth than when you first enter. Thinking back on his comment, I almost feel sorry for the guy for having to clean up after the guests that must have mucked up his bathroom. Then again, maybe Levi just enjoys messing with me. I make a mental note to distinguish his teasing and seriousness as soon as possible.

I retrace my steps back to the foyer when I’m finished, the smell of food in the air directing me towards the kitchen where Levi stands with a bowl in hand. He carefully sets it inside the microwave, leaning lazily against the edge of the counter, eyes meeting mine as I approach him.

I sniff observantly. “Chicken?”

“Soup,” he replies the second the microwave goes off. “I figured it’s the best solution since it’s fucking freezing and my heater isn’t really doing the trick. I hope you’re not picky; this is probably two days old.”

I want to laugh. If he considers _this_ a disaster,I’d love to hear his take on hospital food. I glance over at the medium-sized bowl and lick my lips. “I think I’ll live. It smells really good.”

“Is that so? I’m no Hanji here, so you’ll have to excuse my curiosity. Are you actually hungry or are you trying to be polite? I _know_ demons can’t eat.”

“But I do.”

“Doesn’t it just go right through you?”

I shrug. “I just took a dump, so I don’t know what that tells you.”

My eyes follow Levi as he retrieves the bowl from the microwave and slowly makes his way over to the table. My gaze drops when I realizes he hasn’t given me anything.

“So am I not eating then, or…?”

Levi lifts his spoon. “You have eyes, don’t you? There’s another bowl on the counter. I think you can figure out how to operate a microwave.”

“Sassy,” I mumble, proceeding to work. As a matter of fact, it takes exactly a minute to figure out which buttons to press, but luckily I manage it without any help. When my bowl is considerably warm enough, I sit down beside him, not a moment wasted as I begin to eat my way to satisfaction.

“I take it you’re hungry, then?”

Actually, I’m never hungry, which makes sense thinking back on what I was told about demons and their capabilities. “Honestly, eating feels like a chore.”

“I feel that way most of the time. Never really have time for it, either.”

“Why’s that?”

This whole time Levi keeps his eyes on his soup, hair falling in his face every time he leans forward to eat. Now he studies me with a pathetic look that said, " _are you fucking serious_ ," which doesn’t take me long to understand.

“Oh, right. Your job.”

Silence pans between us for the first time. Surprisingly it isn’t anything uncomfortable, but perhaps it’s natural to stay quiet while eating.

My insides are full of warmth when I finish, though every bit of food I didn’t supposedly digest feels like a rock in my stomach. Acting courteously, I take my bowl to the sink and return to my spot. I watch Levi eat for a few minutes, noting the way his mouth opens and closes every time he brings the silver spoon to his bright pink lips. They looked much paler before, though I didn’t pay very close attention until now.

I find myself smiling at the realization that I’m focused on his _lips_ out of all things, and press a hand against my mouth to hide my amusement. Levi doesn’t look at me once.

I note for the first time today that my headache is gone. It’s almost safe to say I feel _relaxed._ Even _clear_ is a good way to describe it, in which my thoughts are still sacred territory but considering them doesn’t cause me immense pain.

I decide to break the silence with a sudden urge to voice my concerns.

“I really wish I could remember everything. I wish the host didn’t have to take so much of my control,” I say.

Levi drops his spoon into the empty china, pushing it to the side. He sighs softly, eyes drooped and idle as they peer at me. “Don’t beat yourself over this. We did sedate you, after all. I’m just surprised it worked. I thought it would take a lot more to suppress the host."

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…weird to think about. Knowing that someone else can control my thoughts is the furthest from reassuring. Even the idea that there’s someone else in there...intruding into my personal space like that.”

Levi tucks a hand under his chin, chiseled jaw line sticking out at me. He nods as he listens, face honest and attentive.

A memory flickers into my eyes, darkness sheathing them for a blunt second. I make a face. “Why do I fight demons? They’re my own kind… It doesn’t make sense.”

“The same reason humans fight other humans. We all have our differences: justifications, opinions, reactions... Not everyone can be trusted."

“Do you trust me?” I regret it instantly, knowing it’s a dumb thing to ask.

Eyebrow raised, Levi sits upright in his chair, folding his hands together over the tabletop.

“You still have a long way to go before we can trust you.”

“I understand.” It still hurts, though, knowing that the entire group share their uncertainties regarding me, not just Levi.

When he gets up to do the dishes, I stand as well, not wanting to just sit there by myself bored out of my mind. The kitchen leads directly into the living room, and the devil’s trap neatly painted onto the ground notably catches my eye.

So this is where I’d sleep. _Joy_.

Overall, the interior of Levi’s house can be best described as minimalistic: white walls, black furniture, and plenty of windows. I can’t possibly forget how irritatingly orderly everything is. The placement of the sofas parallel to the plasma television is rather uncanny. It makes me wonder just how long he spends making sure everything is _absolutely_ perfect before even allowing himself a glance at the remote.

I notice three abstract paintings on the wall, none of which include any photographs. I faintly remember that my house was indeed the opposite, though something tells me this memory does not belong to me and that my family left long ago. I lean forward to peer over at Levi, gaping at the tenderness shown with every hushed clanking of cutlery. Could it be possible he has nobody either?

“I see you found your bed,” he says, advancing towards me. I vaguely inspect the toned muscles hidden beneath a loose-fitting pullover before averting my gaze upward to show that I’m ogling at him. Of course not.

Then I notice something for the first time.

“Levi, what happened to your face?”

His mouth twists into a grimace, eyes widening with outright offense. “You don’t see me insulting your face, but maybe I should. It’s not that great to look at, anyway.”

“No, you’re bleeding. Look.” I press a hand against his shoulder, directing him to turn towards his reflection in the full-body mirror.

A few minutes ago I would have ignored it, but now here I am paying attention to every contortion, every angle of his face. Dried blood smears his forehead, a cut designating along his cheek. It makes me wonder if he has any other wounds, any battle scars from the things he has faced. I know I have my fair share of memories, but even the recent self-inflicted scars count as a triumph when the greatest struggle was with myself.

Levi pushes his sleeves back so that they don’t go past his wrists and over his hands, his thin fingers delicately brushing over the cut.

“Nothing I’m not used to. Anyway,” he kicks forward a sleeping bag toward the red paint, “this should be good enough for tonight. Shouldn’t be a problem considering you don’t sleep.”

I groan. “Can’t I just take the couch?”

“There is no way I’m moving the furniture for you. I think you’ll live, Jaeger. If you find that sleeping on the floor for one night is the literal end to your life, I’ll be in my room, but you’ll have to shout.”

“Right, because I’ll be trapped here,” I slump my shoulders with defeat. Literally trapped. In a devil’s trap. _I’m so fucking done._

“It’s not the end of the fucking world. There’s a remote right there, I’m sure you can keep yourself busy.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Levi is already out of the room by the time I realize the remote control is sat on the couch, too far out of my reach.

I groan. This is going to be a long night. 


	6. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to compare the updates of this story to that of the manga, since I appear to have updated almost exactly a month later. I hope this chapter was worth the wait!
> 
> Regarding the shifts in POVs, I'm not doing it very often. This story is centered on Ereri and will stay in Eren's POV for the most part. But hey, the other characters' stories are necessary for the plot, so. Let me know how it works out :)

_Jean_

 

Fear is all that comes to mind when I think back to two years ago.

My fingers delicately brushed along the jagged edges of his face, blood and filth tainting his features, his freckles no longer the defining factor above the glint in his eyes each time I insisted I had something important to say, patience gracing his soft features seconds before I would change my mind fervently with no knowledge these last moments were admittedly precious. Precious moments I could have spent sharing my deepest thoughts and desires, but instead were wasted gripping my dagger with trembling fingers, shaky breaths and curses executed in my poorly thought-out attempt to fight for our lives.

I can’t even remember for the life of me the last thing I said to him. All I recall is wavy locks of hair surpassing my vision, images vividly rushing so quickly I couldn’t even spare a second to recollect my thoughts nor was I able to catch the very second he was out of grasp.

I stared at the barely distinguishable face, eyelids fluttered shut, and the word _death death death_ toggled into my brain, my head starting to spin as I desperately clung onto the tattered fabric covering the beloved skin that once shivered beneath my fingertips, now plastered with dirt and grime and body fluids. And _God,_ he just wouldn’t stop bleeding. He was fucking oozing all over my hands, not even an interval of time passed that I wasn’t unnerved and absolutely wrecked with uneasiness, my hands quivering painfully as I pressed into his wounds with my every might, as if just a little bit of pressure would stop the bleeding. His body was rejecting him, and the all-too familiar cruelty of the universe was at hand.

It’s fair to say the grim incident has changed me greatly. Not only have I been emotionally scarred, nightmares spawning me nightly and his ghost haunting my thoughts every minute of the day, a part of me can’t help but blame myself for his death, and the rest of what I can even feel _slightly_ comfortable enough to call _myself_ is burdened with a sharp pang in my chest every morning, nothing short of the usual spoonful of remorse to begin my day.

Some days I wake up with hope, however little it may be. It’s temporary, and sometimes passes by the time I’m out of bed, but it’s enough to keep me going. I know that before his passing I’d spent a fair amount of time dealing with the pain that made an unrequited love a skeleton in my closet, but even the schoolgirl crush was manageable.

I’ve always been under the assumption that the extent of my hope is wishful thinking and, consequently, useless. That is, until the most recent occurrence has indulged my attention and made me see the light for the very first time.

I’m typically not one to refer to a demon as anything other than an abomination to all creatures _including_ the supernatural world, but I’m certainly entitled to my opinion. And shockingly, my opinion stems off the observation that this demon manages to maintain an incredibly average appearance while still manifesting a face that is considerably aesthetically pleasing. His looks are in fact so devastatingly handsome I’m almost not even the least bit concerned with his identity, if only for the very first words I exchanged with him.

Safe to say, I’m human and obsessively horny all of the time. I wouldn’t mind fooling around with him, maybe even fucking with his feelings to pass the time, just for the pure pleasure to gain some insight as to whether this thing even experienced the burden emotions brought. That might be something to consider, if the moment weren’t dead and gone, another half-lit notion tucked into the brink of my subconscious, never to walk the earth again. An uninviting glance at the memories that forever cease to escape.

My awareness of his current residence at Levi’s and the knowledge of his address don’t escape my thoughts for even a moment with the apprehension tingling my fingertips as I consider Eren’s answer and whether the sacrifice is deemed worthy to him yet. Of course it fucking means the world to _me_ , but apparently my judgement isn’t the only one that matters. Fair enough. The kid’s brain is fried as it is; it can’t possibly hurt to wait a day before facing him again. At least that’s what I told myself after he walked away yesterday with noted dread in his dashing movements.

Now I stand at Levi’s door, my boots drumming against the cement with anticipation. I lift my hand to reach the button, fingers tightening before I can graze the doorbell, my arm, finally, dropping to my side.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter with a shake to my head. Why I’m so hesitant is so far beyond me, I can’t even bring myself to think on _why_ there is even a speck of reluctance to ring a fucking doorbell.

I try again, this time not allowing a second of doubt to pass before pushing down on the button. Immediately, my eyes bulge wide with the striking realization that it might not be Eren who will answer. I certainly didn’t plan this far in advance.

“Jean?”

The fact that my eyes don’t have to travel very far down to make eye contact tells me right away that Levi is currently not a problem. I plaster a smile to hide the enervation from yet another restless night and hope he doesn’t see through the facade.

“Eren,” I say. “Hey, what’s up?”

He tilts his head to the side, chestnut locks of hair falling into his face as he leans against the door. Eyebrows furrowed together and dingy bags under his eyes, his voice is as heavy as his posture.

“What are you doing here?”

My eyes find the floor again, and my hands find the bottom of my pockets as I try to ignore the increased heartbeat in my chest. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation yesterday, and about that… I just wanted to say that,” _come on out with it, Kirstein, just fucking say it,_ “I hope we can still be friends no matter what choice you make.”

I look up to see that Eren’s still wearing a frown, not a change in his body language.

I clear my throat. “We _are_ friends, right?”

“Yeah...yeah, of course,” he says. The doubt in his voice doesn’t go past me, but I leave it alone for now. “Is that why you’re here, then? To want to talk some sense into me?”

“No, I came to check up on you. See if you’re ready.”

Eren draws a breath so slowly I can hear the sound for exactly three seconds, and see the fog filling the air between us. “You didn’t happen to see Levi on your way here?”

“No, why?”

“He’s been gone all day.” He sighs again. “I’m not, by the way.”

“Not what?”

“Ready to answer your question.”

“Oh, I’m—I never meant to rush you.”

My face almost entirely flaming with shame, I feel instant regret for choosing to come here.

“I’ve had time to think about it. It’s just…too much right now. And I still don’t remember a whole lot, and this all, it’s all just a mess up here.” He points to his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What if I took you to him? Maybe seeing him will jog your memory and you’ll know what to do.”

“Jean.” He’s clutching the door handle now, but I can’t let his opportunity pass me like everything else has.

“I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to me. So, please? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

We share eye contact for only a few seconds before Eren draws another breathy sigh.

The sidewalk is welcoming as we trek our way past the gate, the somber breeze hitting me from the front. It causes tears to spring into my eyes, and I can’t help but think, _no, not this shit, i’m not even there yet,_ as I blink rapidly and move against the wind with zealous movements.

I can’t stand being here—I think I’d be used to death at this point—but the monument is only another block away, and I haven’t braved the harsh currents to stop here.

My approach to making deals with demons is limited, considering it hasn’t been done very often, at least to the extent of my knowledge. I know it’s serious business. A sacrifice is always made, and there are no takebacks. Standing in front of the silver tombstone, my breath catches in my throat when the name callously meets my eyes. I gulp, my hands fisting my coat pockets for warmth.

“You alright?”

I manage to give a slight nod as I brush away the snot dripping from my nose. “This is it.”

“It looks like someone was already here,” Eren says, pointing at the bouquet of flowers sitting against the gravestone.

“Yeah, I come here every day.” They’ve been here for three days now, already beginning to rot away.

I turn my head to see Eren nod, expression faltering with the drop of his gaze.

“You really miss him.”

I know he isn’t just realizing it now, but it still brings my lips to creep into a sly smile with hopes that maybe this will lead to accepting my proposal.

“You know when you first meet someone and it's all so...simple? You’re not yet aware of the impact they’re going to leave, or if they’re even going to mean anything to you at all. Sometimes you don't realize it until the very end. You don't cherish what you have until it's all over.” I roll my hands into fists in my pockets only to unfold them a second later with the knowledge that it isn’t doing any good to keep warm. “That’s how it was with Marco. I fucking blew it.”

“It seems to me like you cherish him plenty now. Isn’t it good enough that you still have the memories?”

“No,” I nearly snap. I’m perfectly aware that there’s no reason to be angry, or to lash out at him for my own mistakes, but damn it, why would Jaeger choose to give a pep talk _now?_ “Have you ever even lost anyone? It’s not that easy. I can accept that he’s gone just fine, but now that I finally have a chance to save him after all that time I spent convincing myself that there's no way such a thing is possible, I can't just let this go."

Maybe it was a mistake to bring Marco flowers in the middle of winter, even though snow is uncommon here in California. The harsh winds and brazing chills make the bouquet appear as though it's been here longer than a few days. I can't stop looking at it, though, wishing I knew more about Marco. I never even learned his favorite color, let alone his favorite flower. There is still so much I have to learn about him, so much we should have experienced together, and I don't have a chance to even _consider_ doing something about it.

The wind is desperately knocked out of me when a pair of lips meet mine, pulling me into the warmth of Eren's inviting mouth. I allow him access as our lips move together, mesmerizing as his fingertips press into the crevice of my shoulder with tantalizing touches. I unknowingly take Marco out of my thoughts for a second, biting tentatively onto Eren's lower lip as I prolong the kiss, wanting to take and take until my insides feel solid and all the hurt is gone. Except time is relative, and nothing lasts forever.

I'm so caught up with taking this further, my fingers looped around the collar of Eren's shirt with absurd awareness that we could fuck in the middle of a graveyard, that I hardly notice when the demon pulls away, face and lips a deep scarlet when I glance over at him after catching my breath.

If I didn't know any better, I swear the realization hits us both at the same time.

Eren straightens his shirt, stretching his jacket to cover his torso completely. "Well, what are you waiting for? We've got a body to dig up."

My breath still trapped in my throat, I manage a frown. "Shouldn't we wait until nightfall? What if someone catches us?"

It wouldn't be the first time I’ve witnessed or been a part of a digging party during midday, but it's always a concern nonetheless, even if it’s Marco's life at stake this time.

"We need to hurry. Any second now, Marco will awaken, and he'll be pretty freaked out once he realizes he’s been buried alive.”

That alone is enough to bring me to drop to my knees with the sheer determination to dig and the need to see _Marco_ clouding everything else. It’s nearly enough to make me forget that we don’t have any materials on hand, if it weren’t for Eren leaving and returning with two shovels at an astounding five minutes total.

I cock my eyebrows as I watch him strife the material into the soil, impressed and a little worried that he’s regaining his powers so quickly.

Despite my escapades in graveyards, I have never particularly enjoyed the fact that it always takes nearly an hour to dig up a body, nor is it an entirely pleasant experience. All my willpower is nearly absent by the time Eren and I are pulling the coffin out of the rectangular space, the thumping _MarcoMarcoMarco_ in my chest the only thing keeping me moving.

Upon knocking the lid off the top of the casket, dust flies into the air, hitting us both at all angles. I wave a hand in front of my face, while Eren occupies himself in a coughing fit. To put my experiences in perspective, saying that the smell of a rotting body is awful would be an understatement. The atmosphere is nothing short of _rancid_ and _pugnant_ and _fucking disgusting,_ and it’s almost tempting enough to run off and forget about all the efforts I’ve wasted getting this far.

“Almost done,” Eren says, voice still frail from hacking up his lungs.

When the dust clears and the familiarity is set upon me, my breath constricts painfully, and my mind rushes to the memory of seeing a lifeless body once before, and connects it to what I see now: the truth.

Marco was always so full of life. Sun-kissed skin and lulling umber eyes filled with hope. A vital spirit with fire in his heart.

Decomposed flesh and bones are all I see now, none of it resembling him in the slightest.

“Marco,” I say, desperately, glancing at my hands. “You fucking bastard."

My eyes avert back to his corpse to observe the notable changes taking place. There’s a light that wasn’t there before, something I must have missed. I watch as years are sucked back into him with the flesh that slowly spreads across his bones and fill the space over the empty limbs. His hair and freckles are the last to return, and Marco wastes no time in sitting up.

Of course, I fly back in surprise, keeping my eyes focused on the materialized man making his way towards me without breaking eye contact.

If it weren’t obvious before, the rattling in my chest has made quite an impression now. I hear nothing but the blood pounding in my ears, the heat rising from my skin when he pulls me into a hug, the tears staining my cheeks as I breathe in the warmth. Nothing can possibly break this moment; not even the smell of dead, decaying matter can bring me to pull away.

“Jesus,” I finally mutter, tucking my face into his sweater and letting  my tears soak into the blood-stained fabric. Except I turn away completely because there is only so much I can handle at once. “You smell terrible.”

Marco makes no move to remove himself from me, but he does scoff at my remark. “Well, feel free to leave some air freshener in my casket next time I die.”

A panicked whine leaves my mouth. “You fucking idiot, don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Do what? Die?”

I shake my head, blinking away tears. “You’re making it worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

I dig my fingers into his shoulders, the pressure enough to draw blood. I’ve always considered Marco’s safety and made it my priority to keep him from getting hurt, but a little blood right now would only serve as a reminder that he’s alive. I cling closer to him, hoping to stop the involuntary tremors passing through my body. “I don’t want to let go of you. I’m afraid you’ll disappear if I do.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He rubs circles against my back, the warm sensation I’ve missed nearly making me weak at the knees, a moment of disheartenment with the realization that I needed him before, I need him now, and I will need him forever. “How long was I gone?”

I shudder under his hold, eyes slamming shut. “Too long." A disgusting sniffle. "Two years, two months, and five days."

I feel the grip of Marco's hand tighten on my arm, his arm pressing into my back and pulling me impossibly closer.

I breathe hard. "What was it like?"

“I don’t really know.”

"No afterlife or anything?”

“Just...darkness," he says softly, pulling back and forcing me to lift my head. "Jean, can we go home?"

I never thought I'd find myself staring into the same eyes only found in my sweetest dreams, memories I prayed would leave me every night. And now here we are in a moment truly unimaginable, Marco's undivided attention causing me to gulp at the sight alone.

I extend my hand to touch his face, tracing the faded scar designating along his jawline from where Annie first attacked him. His cheeks are soft and warm, full of blood and life. It's still unbelievable that Marco is _real._ Even before his death I always found it ridiculous that such a human being existed. And now, he's here. He's not going anywhere.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

Wait, where's Eren?

He's not standing the mere five feet away as he was moments ago, not that I particularly paid much attention nor did I care enough to. Eren already gave me everything I need and so much more. Still, I owe him at least a thank you, seeing as it wasn't easy for him to agree to it in the first place.

I've spent the past few days contemplating how I'd feel after the deal is completed, but I didn't expect to feel so...indifferent. Right now, I am unchanged, a little less empty now that I have Marco by my side. Then again I haven't a clue what not having a soul is supposed to feel. Regardless of the fact, I can only look at Marco with a grin that spreads cheek to cheek, the thought of his existence enough to cloud my mind with feelings I thought I'd never have again, and that's all that matters for now.

After shoveling dirt back into the grave, Marco takes my hand and guides us out of the cemetery and into less unknown territory. I can’t cook worth a shit, so we decide on McDonalds which is only a block away.

“So,” I bite into my big Mac, which I admittedly ordered because _fuck it_ I haven’t eaten all day, and I am going to enjoy my life from this point on. “You’re not craving human flesh or anything?”

Marco nearly chokes on his fries. “What the fuck?”

“Just making sure none of that zombie shit is going on. You can never trust a demon.”

“They might kill you,” Marco says with a smirk. “Or worse, bring you back to life.”

“Isn’t it a little too soon for jokes?” I grin, but my question is serious. I have yet to adjust to having Marco around me after accepting long ago that he was gone forever.

He drops the subject, now eyeing me curiously as he devours his meal in the speed of light. I suppose two years of being dead comes with a sensational appetite.

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty good,” I reply, my insides jelly when I speak the words even though they are clearly an understatement to the incomprehensible amount of joy surging through my surface.

“Really? You just had your soul taken. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The genuine concern causes my smile to widen, even if it’s inappropriate for this conversation. “I’m fine, Marco. As long as I have you, I’m fine.”

Only when his cheeks tint pink do I not only realize that _holy shit i made him flustered oh my god i want to do it again i feel like i have so much power right now_ , but that _oh shit he doesn’t know how i feel yet fuck fuck how could i forget something so important._

Maybe the adrenaline rush from seeing his face again is at fault, but I can also blame the glorious amount of attention Marco’s given me in the past hour. Somewhere in the middle of the ogling and bliss it somehow slipped my mind that we’re not together and that Marco might not even reciprocate my intense feelings.

“Marco, I have something—” I begin to say, but Marco’s already changing the subject for himself. Confused at our clashing dialogue, I tell him, “Why don’t you go first?”

He frowns, but I swear I hear a giggle under his breath. “That demon with you—who was it?”

“Oh, Eren Jaeger. You’ve probably heard of him.”

“Sounds familiar. But I didn’t recognize him. Must be a different host.”

“Yeah, it's a little complicated," I nod. "I’m just glad he was able to help me out.”

"It was nice of him," Marco agrees. "But what about your soul? How are you gonna get it back?"

Huh, I never even considered that an option until now. "I'll figure something out eventually."

"I hope so. Anyway, it's your turn. What were you gonna say?”

“Oh, yeah, um."

The thought that everything would stay perfect was indeed too good to be true, now that there's added conflict and a likely chance that I would have to face losing Marco all over again. Nevertheless, there's a time and a place for everything, and maybe I have to take that chance now if I ever want to move past the boundaries of an ordinary friendship. Needless to say, our relationship goes beyond that.

"This is really hard for me, but I—just try not to freak out, okay?" I scramble for words, bending my straw anxiously.

A hand settles on top of mine. "You can tell me anything, Jean. You know that."

That doesn’t make it any easier, but it does provide some reassurance. Except sometimes the universe has other plans.

With a groan, I reach into my pocket, ready to silence the incessant buzzing until I catch Levi’s name taunting me on the screen.

“I don’t know where the fuck you’ve been all day, but there is some serious shit going down right now, and if you don’t get your ass down here in ten minutes—”

“Whoa, what’s going on?”

“To give you the basics, Erwin’s dead girlfriend is back, Erwin’s missing an arm, and the paramedics are on their way as we speak. Jesus, where are your priorities, Kirstein? Where the fuck are you?”

“Um,” I glance at Marco who’s staring back in a world of confusion, “it’s kind of a funny story...not really funny at all…” _Damn it, I am fucking everything up, just stop talking already._

“Just go to the fucking hospital.”

“We’ll be there,” I don’t even notice what I’ve blurted until Levi’s hung up, and I’m watching Marco with apprehension. I can only keep him a secret for so long, it seems.

“Wait, so what’s going on?” Marco demands as we dash into the cemetery parking lot, the two of us out of breath but refusing to stop. “Jean!” he yells, but I’m already getting situated in the driver’s seat.

“Erwin’s in trouble,” I say between shaky breaths, pulling out of the space and frantically switching on the headlights. “Now please excuse me while I break ten traffic laws.”

I’m certain Marco hates my guts by the time we reach our destination because he’s clutching his stomach and struggling to keep up with my rapid pace, but I manage to apologize at least ten times and walk slower for his convenience even if it gives leverage to Levi’s threats over the phone.

We sit in the waiting area as I glance down at my phone every five seconds to check for updates. Finally, a series of doctors and paramedics are rushing in, hauling a gurney into the hallway across from us.

“Come on.” I pull Marco along as we follow them into the designated room.

A hand tugs on my shoulder, and next I hear the disgruntled voice mumbling in my ears. “You can’t go in there.”

I greet Levi with a frown, noting the way his hair was pushed back and gleaming with sweat, his face flustered and absolutely spent with exhaustion.

“None of us can. At least not yet.” He sighs, his indifferent expression forming a glare when his eyes fall on Marco. “I thought he was dead.”

“Yes, sir,” Marco says with nonchalance.

Levi sighs again. “Why is it you’re so incapable of listening to reason? I told you not to get involved with this shit, Kirstein. Who’s responsible for this? Was it the Jaeger kid?”

I exchange a brief glance with Marco, and let out a long sigh. “Yeah. It’s mostly my fault, though. I wouldn’t leave him alone until he did it.” I’m perfectly aware that Eren’s already taken my soul, and I don’t give a shit about demons anyway, but something about the guy sets him apart from typical supernatural creatures.

“Whatever. Just don’t let Erwin see you. He’s already been through enough.”

I can see the genuine concern for Erwin in not only his gaze, but his years of experience with the older man. I know they have their history and that they’ve been vanquishing evil since the very start; obviously Erwin means a lot to Levi and vice versa, and I certainly understand that.

“Is he okay?” Marco asks Levi. Even I have to admit it’s a dumb question, but it’s better than leaving us to our own devices.

“He lost his arm, and he’s unconscious, but in terms of life or death… Yeah, he’s doing okay.”

“We should just stopping fighting ghosts altogether,” I mumble under my breath.

“You know we can’t do that. There’s too much at stake here.” Levi crosses his legs in at least three different ways before he stands, the sound of his back popping as he does so. It makes me wonder how long he’s been on his feet all day. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fight my way into the room. Feel free to join me.”

I’m more than tempted to follow, but I don’t care enough to, since it meant leaving Marco by himself. So I stay seated, praying to whatever deity up there that Erwin will stop putting himself and others in such dangerous situations. Clinging close to the brunet, I ponder the similarities between Erwin’s incident and the deal with Eren, and consider the possibilities of resurrection.

If this is how it ends—scarred and bleeding at the hands of his own lover—what does that say for me?

Is the world truly a place for someone like Marco?

 

 


	7. Calamity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is soooo late but I promise I'm not giving up on this story or anything. I'm just so busy and also incredibly unmotivated to do anything (fuck senior year). I hope this story still captivates your interest because I have big plans for it, anyway enjoy <3
> 
> A bit of smut in this chapter.

I didn’t sleep.

No. I _couldn’t_ sleep.

That might have been the reason why my eyes stayed open all night. Or at least until my final failed attempts of easing my boredom at the crack of dawn led me to drift off to nowhere.

I pick myself off the floor with a headache from a nightmare that I can’t remember anymore than I can remember falling asleep. The blankets are hugging my torso in a problematic manner, morning wood constricted by the fabrics, my feet cold and poking out. Now I can admit I’ve witnessed many oddities in my life, but this stuck out to me.

The sleeping bag is rolled up into a ball to my side with the remote control on top of it. The sight brings me to recall the events before I passed out in the tight space Levi allowed me to rest. His suggestion to watch TV to pass the time brought back memories of unknowingly bringing the device to my hands without any movements of my own.

It’s safe to say I wasn’t aware of this power before, of the fact that I’m apparently capable of moving objects with my mind. Though I can’t find any distinction between telekinesis and demons, there’s still plenty of information finding its way around my disarray of thoughts. It’s fair that I’m picking out things, little by little each day, even if it’s fucking frustrating knowing that it’s my own damn fault I’m missing out on so much.

My eyes follow the pattern of the devil's trap to its edges to find that the circle had been broken. Surely Levi did this earlier in the morning or during the night. The fact that he managed to do so without drawing any attention worried me to a miniscule degree; if I’m not able to sleep, what possible state am I in when experiencing night terrors?

I take the hint that Levi’s granting me permission to leave, or move around at the very least. The bones pop in my back as I stand, my body off-balance as I step over the visible red line, which only now is quite literally a red line.

When I was finished pondering over every other stupid thing in my life, I spent a good amount of time thinking about Jean’s deal. I stared at the ceiling with sunlight peeking in through the curtains, only slightly distracting to the sound of my brain trying to formulate intelligent thoughts. I tried to remember the deals I’ve previously made and found my memory to succeed me for once.

Sometimes painful, often the deals left a bad taste in my mouth. There was always something off about the process. Deals were intended to be favors for someone else while demons took much in return. I can’t say it’s entirely unfair. There are perks to having a soul, like not feeling like dead cattle in a world of blooming roses, but having more than one soul on your person is somewhat overwhelming. At times, too much heart—not enough to change the nature of a demon, but enough to deem human qualities—and other times too much power.

Jean seems like an alright person in the few minutes I spoke to him. I know I don’t owe him anything, nor do I understand his particular situation, but I _do_ want to help him. The reason for that is unknown to me, and maybe I’m making excuses here, but perhaps retrieving another soul would help return my strength.

I think back to my dream, the image of Annie’s face flashing to mind. Although I can’t remember much about what I saw, the image of the way her cold lifeless body stared back at me won’t disappear. The person she once was is no longer here, neither is the person she left behind. She is now particles of dust, floating incessantly in the air I breathe in. No soul, no _nothing_ to carry on. Only half-formed memories of the girl whose life I once saved.

And Jean, well, I get it. It’s almost laughable he shows up shortly after I spend twenty minutes searching the house for any sign of Levi. It’s almost a relief to have some company, even if it has to be him. Not that I really favor anyone at this point.

He managed to take me to Marco after some convincing, most of which was a mental battle as I thought back to the recent discovery of my “powers.” I decided that the world couldn’t possibly fuck itself up even more with my help, that Levi was nowhere to be seen, and I needed to keep my mind occupied or I’d find some way to bring myself grief. I mean, God forbid I learn something new about myself.

I couldn’t trace back the last time I’d seen a cemetery, but the setting was all too familiar, nonetheless. I’d once considered it an eerie atmosphere, but I supposed I’d adjusted after the first thirty souls.

So yeah, I take Jean’s soul, Marco marches out of the grave, and the lovers reunite. No big deal.

It isn’t until I’m leaving the gates that I realize my hands are shaking at my sides, an unidentifiable sensation causing my sides to throb. I try to brush it off as another post-traumatic symptom when I decide it’s more than that. Jean’s soul certainly has something to say to me. But what am I supposed to do with it? Activate it? Fuck it? Yeah, I’m gonna fuck it.

I have no idea where I’m going, but I still make the effort to trace my steps back to Levi’s even with my stomach holding me back. It’s an empty sensation, and yet I envision glowing light dancing inside me, bouncing and seeking an escape, and the thought is enough to make my body protrude towards the street and regurgitate last night’s dinner onto a patch of grass.

When I finally stumble upon the cottage house, I am surprised to find the front door unlocked. At first I assume Shorty’s finally back from his five-year voyage until it hits me across the face that I made the insolent mistake of leaving the door open. Not that there is anything to steal, though the devil trip scrawled on the living room floor might stir some suspicion. It’s a suburban neighborhood where the chances of a burglary are highly unlikely, but I stay alert and on my toes anyway upon entering the abode, ready to strike at any moment.

I can admit it’s a little disappointing to walk into an empty home, but a part of me was expecting this all along. Evidently Levi is elbows deep in something really important or he’s left me for good. I stick to the former until I hear the sound of the door slamming behind me.

“You’re still here,” he says.

“And you’re back,” I point out, watching as he tosses his keys onto the couch.

“I hope you’re hungry, I got a whole bunch of shit.”

I follow him to the kitchen and watch him set the two paper bags on the counter, paper rustling loudly as his hands reach into the first one.

“I hope you like Panera Bread because this shit was expensive,” Levi tells me, handing over a glass of water while taking out a bottle of beer for himself.

I hate the way it feels as though he’s mocking me with the gesture, as if to say _ha fuckin’ brat i bet you can’t even hold your liquor,_ and so I grab myself a bottle just to spite him. He looks askance as I take my first sip, but the suspicion disappears by the time my bottle is half-empty.

“You know, it’s reassuring to know I’m not the only one smashed this early in the day.”

“You don’t seem like the type,” I say honestly. “Are you unhappy, Levi?”

He frowns, but my question doesn’t startle him. “Take it from me. Spend an hour in a hunter’s shoes and you might reason that a drink or two in the middle of the day is nothing if not profitable.”

It’s not so easy being me either, but I keep that to myself. I debate on whether I should tell him about Jean, but before I can even pull the bottle from my lips, Mozart’s eighth symphony begins to play softly from the phone on the counter.

I hear Levi mumble, “Fuck, okay,” before slamming his spoon against the table and pulling out of his seat.

Levi doesn’t tell me what’s happening, nor does he tell me why we’re in such a rush to leave. I assume it has something to do with his job, since that’s possibly everything both of our lives revolve around anymore.

I want to ask Levi where we’re going, but he’s driving about thirty miles-per-hour over the speed limit and I’m busy gripping my seat to keep from flying into the windshield.

We end up pulling into an unfamiliar setting. Levi doesn’t bother waiting for me; he dashes towards the house. I follow him and catch him right as he’s kicking the door open, which completely unlatches itself and gets knocked down.

I hear the sound of a gun cock and look to see Levi pointing the weapon forward as we advance further in the house. Surrounded by darkness, the only sources of light we have are the windows and the space where the door once was. I might have been a little spooked out if I weren’t used to it.

The house is so eerily quiet it’s safe to assume either nothing is going on and Levi is fucking with me, or whatever happened has already gone down and we’re too late.

Then I feel hot breath next to my ear and a voice that is dangerously soft. “Listen. We’re gonna go in there and you won’t hesitate to attack the fucker that’s got him, got it?”

I want more than anything to know more, but we’re already moving again, slowly, our feet barely brushing against the floor.

“In here,” Levi whispers, light bouncing on his face enough for me to see him turn his head. He gestures at the open door beside us, quick to enter the room, gun still held in front of him. And then, his hand drops to his side and fishes through his pocket.

Frowning, I follow him inside, and almost immediately my eyes dart to floor where I see puddle of blood next to an unconscious Erwin Smith.

“Yes, we need a fucking ambulance—”

“Levi—”

He looks at me, but there’s not enough time to warn him. A silhouette materializes behind him, a knife held in the air aiming for Levi’s head. Pushing Levi aside and knocking him down in the process, I prepare to defend him at all costs. Except when I glance back for the figure, ready to fight it off, it’s gone.

My eyes waver back to Levi, who is now making the gracious attempt to lift himself from the floor. He wipes his hands against his pants and sighs. “I could have handled that.”

“I know,” I say. “Sorry.”

He reaches for his gun, which has been carelessly tossed against the wall. I wonder briefly who could have done that while my eyes search the room for any sign of the ghost. Levi is crouched down on his knees, touching Erwin’s hair gently.

“He’s losing a shit ton of blood. Where’s his fucking arm?” Levi mutters, shaking his head.  “I need you to do something for me.” He speaks so softly I’m not sure he’s even speaking to me. “She’s bound to return soon, but I need you to find her grave. There should be a shovel in Erwin’s garage or something. I’ll meet you over there once the paramedics arrive.”

“Wait, but what’s her—”

“Carla Rose. I don’t fucking know where she’s buried, so good luck. Let me know where you are when you find it. And hurry the fuck up, Jaeger. Do you have any idea how to handle anything?”

Putting me down isn’t going to help save the day and Levi knows that. Part of me believes he’s just trying to rile me up, but everything is too tense for that. I storm out of there, the woman’s name repeating itself in my mind until I make it outside.

It surprisingly doesn’t take me long at all to find her grave, considering I returned to the same graveyard earlier today. Perhaps I had gotten lucky, or a part of me managed to grasp information regarding this woman’s death through supernatural means, but as I begin to clear out the grass lying in front of her tombstone, I figure things are turning out somewhat okay for me today.  

Human lives are so sacred. So easily conjectured through means of passion—often by mistake—and so easily torn away in the most complex ways. I imagine the contemplation of the afterlife is relatively complex. Supposedly there is a God. I speak with uncertainty only because I have yet to meet this divine power even after being declared dead for hundreds of years.

Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s fantastic—even beautiful—to have genuine hope for the world, even if the idea often involves romanticized ideals, such as the promise that one day life beyond earth will have made a century of pain worth the imminent struggle. Take it from me, nothing—not even the most agonizing of pains—leaves you. Your soul pulls away from your corpse, moving from where the soul once met the body halfway to a place far beyond the moon and stars, into complete chaos in a hidden abyss located in a godforsaken sector of the universe.

The fact that I’m about to control the fate of a soul to an extent is so unbelievably liberating. The fact that I brought Marco back from the dead is enough proof. Even if I have blood on my hands in the form of a human soul, which by the way, I have no clue what I’m supposed to do with.

I stare at the large mound of dirt beside the hole in the ground. Almost there.

All I have to do is burn the bones and then I’m out of here. Only when my shovel slips out of my hands do I realize that this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.

One minute I’m bending over to retrieve the tool, the next I find myself slipping into the hole I’d made. It isn’t until I hit the ground with a thud and with dirt in my mouth that I become painfully aware that my fall wasn’t an accident.

Carla—the ghost—has found me.

I really need to hurry.

Digging my fingers into the dirt, I begin to scoop out dumps of soil until the dirt starts clearing out by itself. Some might call it magic; I call it another power rising to the surface. The hole is cleared out in seconds, leaving a muddy brown with the texture of a box. The shovel levitates towards me, tearing the box apart. The casket flies open.

Completely decomposed, all I see is bones. It reeks, to say the least.

I shake my head as I light a match, thinking, _i can’t believe i’ve spent the majority of my day digging up dead bodies,_ tossing it into the casket. Realizing I forgot to clear out, I blink hard, questioning whether it’s possible for anyone to be so brainless.

When my eyes fly open a second later, I’m standing on higher ground. Coughing and rubbing my eyes, I watch as fire blazes in front of me, quickly accepted that I transported myself to safety.

“Christ,” I mutter. There’s no sign of Carla anywhere; I figure the job is done. Now, to wait for Levi.

Only when I am sitting on a patch of grass, watching the fire burn out, do I realize that I forgot to call Levi in the first place. He’s going to kill me.

Shooting him a quick text to ask for the location, I start to head towards the hospital. I’m still clueless about the circumstances and what _exactly_ happened tonight, but I figure I’ll get some answers soon.

“There you are,” Levi breathes with a sigh. “What’s the matter with you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I have everything under control,” I assure him, for the first time feeling confident with my words despite how much this man intimidates me.

He crosses his arms. “You better hope so, Jaeger.”

“Is Erwin okay?”

“He’s out. Still has a heartbeat, so we’re holding onto that.”

“I see.”

I drop my body in the chair beside him. We’re sat in the hallway, watching the people pass us. Hospitals are almost exciting. Lives are saved most of the time, and there is always room for hope. At least for humans. It’s kind of nice, honestly—the uncertainty that _may_ include something promising when the chaos is all over.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Levi says. I frown until he goes on. “First Marco, now this. You’ve spent an awful lot of time cleaning up messes today.”

I can’t fight back a grin. “Surprised?”

“You aren’t?”

I lean forward, my hands on my knees as I stare ahead. “Apparently I can move things with my mind. I can also teleport, which I guess is _kind of_ exciting.”

He’s really quite out of it and I can tell he isn’t listening. He lets out a soft sigh. “Yeah, I’m gonna go see Erwin again.”

All I can manage is a nod.

He returns not a minute later. Cool and casual, he keeps his stoic expression as he opens his mouth.

“This is exactly the reason why Erwin has us doing this shit all the time—hunting ghosts and demons and all the vermin that walk the earth. He’s suffered tremendously. And then when this shit happens...” Levi shakes his head. “Makes me fucking sick.”

I haven’t seen this side of Levi before—so hurt and passive aggressive and just filled with _pure_ rage. I want to say something, but I have nothing to offer. It makes me uncomfortable enough knowing Levi hates my kind. And me.

“Go home.”

I awkwardly turn to face him. I try my best to sound compassionate. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, just go. I’m not staying long anyway. This place is fucking disgusting.”

I nod. When I try to pat him on the shoulder gently, he flinches away. I stand up awkwardly, feeling eyes on my back as I leave.

I’m pleasantly surprised nobody has shat on me for the whole Marco situation. Maybe the reason for the silence is because everyone is tied up with Erwin’s critical state, everyone is too grateful that Marco is back to care, or nobody other than Jean and Levi even _know_ he’s back.

When I reach Levi’s house, it’s as quiet as I expected. Looking at the devil’s trap on the living room floor causes a groan to leave my mouth; the last thing I want is to stay here for another night.

Knowing Levi won’t be back for awhile, I enter his room, nonchalantly sitting myself at the end of his bed. There’s a bunch of dry cleaning set out over the sheets. I pick up a pair of boxer briefs, bringing them up to my face. Flushing slightly, I take in the smell of laundry detergent and raspberry tea—otherwise known as sex.

I’m not afraid to admit that Levi is an incredibly attractive young man. I can also safely say I haven’t been laid in a while, considering my sexual history is inherently nonexistent to my knowledge. And maybe it’s a little spontaneous for the situation, but I’m suddenly ridiculously turned on.

Thinking back to Levi expressing his hatred for demons, the room starts to feel a little warm. Pulling off my shirt, I find that I’m sweating a little less, which brings me to remove my pants just to make myself feel more at ease.

_Levi would never want you._

I take my cock in my hand, giving myself a rough stroke and letting my body fall into the mattress.

All I can think is _i’m such a fucking creep_ as I continue to move my hand in faster strokes in the comfort of Levi’s bed, but it feels _so good_ to be able to do something for myself today—to be able to feed the beast clawing me from the inside.

_Bet you would love to fuck him._

Images of Levi on his knees, face down on the bed, taking my cock in so many ways… It’s almost enough to drive me to complete insanity.

So preoccupied in my own pleasure, I don’t consider that Levi can arrive at any minute until it’s nearly too late. The sound of footsteps is enough for me to take my clothes in my hand and run for the closest hiding space: the closet.

My heart is probably pounding a hundred beats a second—well, it’s not exactly _my_ heart, but it affects me greatly and causes for soft gasps to leave my mouth, making it impossible to control my disheveled breathing.

The space in the closet in small, but it works out. I peek through the blinds to see Levi walking about, eyes glancing at the bed and then towards my direction.  

“Come on out, you little brat. I know you’re in there.”


End file.
